Learning Curve: Book 2
by Cap'n Chryssalid
Summary: In the heart of China, amid the Baiyankara Mountains, war has returned to consume the region, testing Alliances and family loyalties... while in Japan, Ranma and Ryouga fight for their lives, and the lives of their loved ones. Complete RA RyN UH
1. Learning Curve part 16

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XVI (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
Akane's mouth moved, but no words came out. Her vision was far from clear, and her head was spinning to the point where it became nearly impossible to concentrate or focus on any one thing. Her mind flashed back to what seemed to have only been moments before. There had been a terrible splash and impact. She had used the pain, rode it up to galvanize her muscles and body, and started to try and move in a coordinated manner.  
  
She was in water... she was sinking, drowning, and worse, she couldn't see. Her wide-open eyes could only see a torrent of black shadows, stark white bubbles, and rushing dark blue. She remembered gulping for another desperate breath, which went somehow wrong, as if she had sucked in an icicle. Then, suddenly, there had been nothingness, and it was like the moment between sleep and consciousness, when, if only for a moment, the mind works, but the body is stiff as a corpse.  
  
And just as suddenly, she felt air enter her lungs, and water leave her mouth. She opened her eyes, praying to see something familiar to cling to, but her vision instead shivered with unnatural color, as if the world around, tress, grass, people, everything was producing light instead of reflecting it. She could barely inhale now; save for short, rapid, ragged gasps and hiccups.   
  
She became aware, then, that water was tricking out of her nose and down her upper lip. She wiped at it, and that single tiny irritation, became the focus that anchored her. She blinked, and it was like a dream, passing away, and she could hardly remember any of it. Starting to get up, despite the weakness in her body, Akane felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked.   
  
A word came to her mouth, unbidden: "Ranma?"  
  
"... Akane, you up? You feeling ok?"  
  
"Shampoo?" Akane blinked, not really believing it. Looking past the Chinese girl, she saw a decent sized campfire, and two people seated around it. The one closest inclined his head, slightly, and she caught sight of a bandanna holding waves of dark hair at bay. Past him, opposite her from the fire, she saw two blue-gray eyes, looking out from the shadows of a crop of wild hair. They dropped, as soon as her own eyes met them, in favor of staring into the fire, the movement of the head flicking a distinct pigtail over his shoulder.  
  
"Shampoo? Ryouga?" Akane licked her lips - they were dry, which was something she found very odd, given the circumstances. "What are... how did you two get here?"  
  
"Silly Tendo girl." Shampoo leaned back, giving Akane room to sit up, though unsteadily at first. "I find you. And Airen."  
  
"She's very good at tracking people down." Ryouga smiled, though it seemed a bit forced, as if he was holding something important back. "How do you feel, Akane-san? When we found you and Ranma, you were ...a little out of it."  
  
Akane hadn't missed the dark blush that appeared on Ranma's cheeks as Ryouga talked, or that Shampoo had turned away to stare at the trees. Inching closer to the fire, to warm her hands, she tried to catch more of Ranma's face, but he was avoiding giving her just such an opportunity. She decided to be done with it.  
  
"What happened? I remember... I remember hitting the water. And blacking out."  
  
"Ranma dragged you out," Ryouga answered. "He was pretty hurt himself, but he did it. He also..."  
  
"Hey," Ranma broke in. "It wasn't anything important, ok?"  
  
Ryouga gave him a quick look, and relented. "He saved your life, Akane-san."  
  
Shampoo snorted softly.   
  
Akane didn't hear it.  
  
"Thank you, Ranma." She leaned in a little closer, and caught his eyes moving up to finally see her.  
  
"Yeah, well." The pigtailed boy looked up, and waved it off. "Somebody had to keep you from drowning. Being built like a brick and all."  
  
"As opposed to just having a head like one, right?" Akane smiled.  
  
Ranma shook his head.  
  
"You feel up to fight, Akane?" Shampoo cracked her knuckles.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Not fight Shampoo! Fight monster boy!"  
  
"Yeah. Him." Ryouga scowled, and stood up. He inclined his head, and Akane followed it to see a billowing pyre of fire and smoke, set on a cliff overhanging the water. "He still has Nabiki... but not for long. Not once I get my hands on him."  
  
"Now that you're up and ok, we can head out." Ranma started to build up some of his normal bluster. "You ready, man?"  
  
"I've been ready for hours now." Ryouga balanced his umbrella in his open palm.  
  
"Good, then..."  
  
"Wait!" Akane jumped to her feet, startling the two men. "You can't just climb up there! The whole place is one big water trap... you're both sure to get splashed!"  
  
"Splashed?" Ryouga's eyes widened, and he looked over the distance they'd need to climb before they got to the summit of the cliff, and to the fire. Water traps... of course. It all made sense now! When expecting to fight the Jyusenkyou cursed, why not pick a battlefield where your advantage will be as great as possible? Ryouga had fought with this pantyhose person before, and he was confident that, so long as they both stayed human, he would be able to simply overwhelm him with his superior strength and endurance. His cursed form would be a much more difficult opponent, but he was sure that with Ranma and Shampoo together, they'd be able to overcome the creature without too much trouble.   
  
But Ranma, P-chan, and an angry tabby?  
  
They wouldn't have much of a chance in a straight up fight with this monster. He growled, deep in his throat. Once again, his curse was keeping him from doing what needed to be done. Keeping him from those he cared about.  
  
"Is there another way up?" He asked, keeping his voice level and approaching calm. "There has to be another way up."  
  
"He always flew in..."  
  
"What about blasting in from underneath? Ryouga... you think you could Bakusai Tenketsu down and up, into the place?"  
  
"Not a problem... unless I hit a water vein. If the place is really a 'water trap' then it won't be possible, because the tunnels will flood and collapse anyway."  
  
"He called it the Temple of the Watery Grave," Akane explained, tightly. "But..."  
  
"But?" Shampoo prompted.  
  
"But I remember the way I came down. There weren't any traps there that I saw. But that was only halfway up from the top to here. Maybe less."  
  
"Well, it doesn't look like we've got much of a choice." Ranma's voice took on a truly determined tone. For him, at least, the decision had already been made.  
  
"For once, Saotome, I agree." Ryouga's eyes narrowed at the signal fire. "Arrogant little bastard. Let's go... I won't allow him to keep her another night there. Not without a fight!"  
  
"Right." Ranma faced Shampoo and Akane. "Akane... you can come, but don't do anything stupid, alright? This guy is dangerous."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" She cuffed him on the cheek, lightly. "Baka."  
  
Shampoo looked at the two, and occupied herself by smothering the campfire. Softly, she cursed both Tendo sisters equally. It was just loud enough for a certain someone to hear, but Ryouga had already decided to ignored the banter; keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.  
  
"Hang on, Nabi-chan." He clenched his fist, and moved, keeping his eye on the large fire in the distance, and trusting those with him to keep his course straight and true. "I'm coming."  
  
***  
  
Pearl Adams had been waiting for almost two hours, by the look of the old two-handed clock to his left, which sat peacefully on one of the room's tables. His hand touched the cool glass of the office window that opened out onto downtown Hong Kong, and he looked down at the tiny scurrying forms of people below, and the crowded streets that crisscrossed the city. Truthfully, it made him uncomfortable. Cities were like ant nests, and it made him seem small and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. He much preferred the delusion of importance.  
  
He adjusted his collar nervously, went around the large central desk that dominated the office, and sat down. The chair seemed to have been purposefully engineered to make those unfortunate enough to end up in it uncomfortable. Looking ahead, he tapped his finger impatiently on the smooth marble of the desk, flanked and held up by finely crafted balsa wood. The top of the desk itself was clear, except for a large flat screen computer monitor, folded down and blending into the dark marble underneath it. On the other side, a small plaque read only 'Bishop Chen' in stark gold-on-black English.  
  
Undecorated walls supported the office's high ceilings. Undecorated, save for a large and unusual curved sword, heavy looking, and hanging near a few framed pictures on a single wall, which had a cream white door. Above, hung from the ceiling, a large fan spun softly and slowly. He looked up at it, and when he looked down again, a man sat in front of him, behind the desk, wearing an irritated frown.   
  
In appearance, the man seemed around forty or forty-five, stout but not corpulent, with a pleasantly ugly face and great strong sausage fingered hands, one of which seemed to be clenched uncomfortably. Both his eyes were a strong shade of blue, and his lips turned down as if he were perpetually inclined towards pessimism, or at best, bland neutrality. He was obviously slightly balding, and kept his hair short, even cut, in an almost military fashion. His forehead was high and innocent of wrinkles, which gave his face a younger aspect belied by the lines around his mouth and eyes.  
  
"Yes?" He asked, frown still firmly in place. "Let's hear it. What did you learn?"  
  
Adams, himself, was tall, his head capped by wholly white-blond hair with ashy brown skin acquired by years of hiking and tracking in the Outback. Still, despite the height and age advantage, he wasn't quite used to private audiences at this social level, or in similar environs. This was his first reporting here in person, having sent a detailed written report months before.  
  
"Well," Adams said and cleared his throat. "His early intelligence tests were normal, not exceptional. Before the age of ten, the tests showed some immediate jumps, then about a year later, around eleven, they revealed that he was kind of an idiot."  
  
"Standard aptitude tests, yes?" Bishop's English had an obvious Russian accent to it, though his features belied some Asian traits.  
  
"Yes, sir. It seems more likely, however, in light of already acquired information that he simply doesn't test well."  
  
Bishop leaned back, stood up, and walked to the far side of the room. Tapping a panel of the wall, it opened, and he reached inside. After a moment, he came back with a clear glass. He didn't offer any to the still seated Adams, who suspected it was Vodka or some other strong alcohol, and wouldn't have wanted any anyway. As he walked back to his chair, the man spoke. "No records of childhood illness, I assume?"  
  
"There are two possible explanations for that, sir." The younger blond man shifted a bit, uncomfortable.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"He did a great deal of moving around, as you know, so any major illnesses may simply not have been adequately recorded, and minor ones seen as not of consequence... or they may have gone untreated. Or..."  
  
Bishop sat down.  
  
"Or," Adam continued, "He may never have caught anything that needed reporting or recording."  
  
Bishop slowly smiled. The other man was obviously stepping outside his expertise, and was uncomfortable with it. "Major, do you consider yourself a curious man?"  
  
"What do you mean, sir?"  
  
"Do you know the largest structure in the world?"  
  
"Largest? No, sir. Not off the top of my head."  
  
"The most densely populated place on Earth?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"My background?"  
  
"No." The man scowled, as if he were being mocked or tested.  
  
"Most people are ignorant of most things. They often don't care to know; tell them and they forget. The larger vision is lost in the day-to-day minutiae, which they know well enough to get along. What about the basic principles of Marxist macroeconomics?"  
  
"Hell so, sir... pardon the language."  
  
Bishop took a long drink, and set the empty glass down. "I'm a bit ignorant of that myself. No curiosity at all about such things. Do you worry about the world sometimes?"  
  
"Sometimes, sir. Can't really be helped."  
  
"Have you thought to complain to those in charge? Those in power?"  
  
"Not really my place. There's so much to complain about, really, where to begin?"  
  
"Of course. You're an excellent officer, Mr. Adams, and you have done good work for me in the past."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Bishop's smile faded, and he looked down at the polished copperstone floor. "Are you curious as to my interests regarding your mission... this boy, and those around him?"  
  
"Not really sir. A mark is a mark."  
  
Bishop dismissed his statement with a shake of his head. "You are curious, but too good a soldier to admit to it. I ask, only because I feel you should know what I'm about to send you to deal with. You see I know that this boy, and his acquaintances, never had oh... measles, or any other childhood disease. And not because it went unreported, or because of 'clean living.' This boy was more than merely resistant to such things."  
  
"If you say so, sir."  
  
"And his abilities... I know much of those things too. Intimately. Perhaps I should send one of my personal aides to help you deal with any potentially problematic situations regarding these people."   
  
The other man said nothing, merely sat at parade rest, eyes fixed on the opposite wall's great glass window overlooking the city. Bishop could read the young man well enough without seeing into his mind; he did not much believe all this, and knew little or nothing of his personal guardsmen and women. Chen began again, "Can you continue to find, follow, and track these people for me?"  
  
"With sufficient numbers of additional officers, we can have around the clock observation in place. At present, my small team is not well equipped to deal with the sheer numbers of targets present in any adequate fashion."  
  
"Very well. The Society will provide you with what you need. Continue to send reports. When I give the appropriate orders, you will eliminate the targets, from a distance - large caliber shots to the head, to be safe. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I realize this is different from your normal assignments in China, but it of the utmost importance, Major."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You will then have the bodies brought to my associates, especially those of the primary targets. You will not use our criminal contacts as anything except cover. The bodies must be in our hands within twenty four hours."  
  
"Sir!" Major Adams stood, nodded once, and departed.   
  
Bishop Chen rubbed his hands together, slowly, as he thought about the future. He did not much trust the competence of any police, in any country. They could be bribed easily enough, if need be, and convinced to turn a blind eye... or two. So many implications, so many theories! With a small, intent smile, he lost himself in speculation for several minutes, and then went to his desktop informer to move on to other matters that needed consideration. He scrolled through the information gleaned by the informant, and his most loyal sources within the Society and, most importantly, without.   
  
After all, Marxist macroeconomics wasn't exactly rocket science.  
  
***  
  
"Looks like the whole gang's here... except for that old guy." Taro smirked. "Come on, girlie."  
  
"No need to manhandle me, you know!" Nabiki gave a sharp tug away from him with her shoulder, but couldn't get anywhere. Her arms were well and tied behind her back, with pantyhose annoyingly enough (Taro seemed to have a stash of them), and he had a good grip on her restraints with his right hand. In the other he held a makeshift torch that kept the twilight darkness at bay. It was probably around midnight, though that would only be a guess.  
  
"Looks like they see us. Good." Taro took a few steps forward, and have her a hard shove forward. Mentally, Nabiki cursed how helpless and indignant she probably looked - dirty, tied up, tired... But there they were, down at the bottom of a slightly winding path, poised to rush up and attack. Ranma and Akane seemed slightly ruffled, and a bit sores for wear, but defiantly alive and active. Ryouga seemed to be seething, and about to explode in their direction, and Shampoo seemed a bit pensive, and taking the rear.  
  
"Brought reinforcements, eh Faggot?" Taro taunted. "Hey there, pig-boy! Come and get her!"  
  
"Hold on, Nabiki!" Ranma called out. "We'll be right up!"  
  
"No! Don't come any closer!" Nabiki yelled back down, hurting her throat to make sure she was heard. "This place is full of traps!"  
  
"We know!" Shampoo yelled back. The group paused, and Ranma and Ryouga started to look for any signs of trap triggers obscured by the night's darkness. Taro saw them, and quickly realized that if they looked too closely, they would have a fair chance of actually seeing the traps he'd set, even in the dark - one of the reasons he'd wanted them to attack at night and set the signal fire.   
  
"All right..." He softly said to himself, threw aside the torch, reached to his sash, and then spoke up. "Listen up, boys and girls! If you don't try and save this little cutie here..."  
  
He whipped out a length of pantyhose, and made as if to put it over Nabiki's head. "I'll hide that pretty face behind pantyhose!!"  
  
"What?" Ranma didn't know whether to be disgusted, surprised, or simply annoyed.  
  
Ryouga, on the other hand, was without a doubt pissed off. "You wouldn't dare!"  
  
"We all know what people with pantyhose over their heads look like..." Taro laughed, in true evil fashion. "Stupid, that's what!"  
  
"Is very shameful be covered with pantyhose." Shampoo nodded gravely.  
  
"This is... quite possibly... the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Like I would care if you put pantyhose over my head." Nabiki rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh yeah?" Taro growled, and tossed the pantyhose on the ground, took her chin in his hand and forced her to face him. "How about this then?"  
  
"What...mmfh!"  
  
Ranma couldn't help but gawk. He was kissing Nabiki! That took balls: big brass balls. That, and Ryouga would undoubtedly now walk through burning shards of glass to tear him limb from limb now. Akane simply gasped. That bastard was actually kissing her sister! That... That...  
  
"Pervert!" Akane yelled, fuming, taking a few steps forward.  
  
"No. I won't allow it!" The voice was low, but without a doubt carried a dark and dangerous edge. Ranma pivoted, and felt the heat of Ryouga's battle aura blowing in his face. The lost boy was in a rage only matched by the height of their battle, months ago, minus the depressive elements, which was a good thing as Shampoo and Akane were both in range of the 'crushing' effect it had on things.   
  
"NO," he said again, canines showing as his lips pulled back into a snarl.  
  
He was going to charge, regardless of the water traps. Ranma was about to hold him back, impossible though it probably was, when he blinked, and Ryouga was a third of the way to his target. Taro hadn't even broken from the kiss, as his right leg kicked out a nearby log. A cascade of water immediately erupted to Ryouga's left and right, flooding down the narrow riverbed Ranma now realized they'd been following towards the signal fire. Ryouga's aura blazed against the torrent of water for a moment before being simply overwhelmed and swept away. In the white water and the darkness, Ranma couldn't even see his friend/rival/former enemy as he was washed away.  
  
"Ha! That sure did it!" Taro pulled back, and gave Nabiki a cruel smile. "Thanks."  
  
Nabiki spat at him, but he dodged it without even trying. She quickly decided to resort to words, her specialty. "That was terrible. Don't get much practice with actual girls, do you?"  
  
"Shut up." Taro turned back towards Ranma and Shampoo. They were already on their way up, jumping to keep their contact with the ground minimal. Smart.  
  
Jumping back and away, with Nabiki in tow, Taro slung her over his shoulder, backpedaled slightly, and jumped up using a series of shortcuts to the top. Most of the way there, he stopped, and entered the broad mouth of a cave, decorated by dark stalagmites and stalactites. Hopping over a wire trap, and unceremoniously throwing his hostage to the ground, Taro quickly bound her mouth and her wrists with pantyhose, and then added another quick loop to a nearby stalagmite, keeping her in place.   
  
"Enjoy the accommodations." He gave her a quick mock wave goodbye, and headed out. Now alone, he jumped up, gaining some height, and went in search of his prey. It turned out to be easier than he expected.  
  
"Where are you, you underwear obsessive? Come out you coward!!"  
  
Taro stifled a quick laugh, and dropped softly to a nearby boulder, near one of the traps he'd set up. Most of them, he'd scouted out and prepared in his cursed form (mostly because he ended up getting wet while doing it anyway, and because it involved a lot of heavy lifting), and while his perception of the world was slightly different in his monster form and only saw in black and white, he had an excellent memory and went over everything twice in human form, so he wouldn't forget.   
  
His two opponents were both extremely dangerous individuals. One of them, the boy with the piglet curse, was insanely strong and nearly immune to conventional attacks. Amazingly, he was able to take repeated blows from Taro's cursed form, and still get up with little apparent injury. Worse, his technique was obviously well honed and combat tested, at least against human opponents, and indeed, even things much larger than a normal person - probably wild animals. He was damn fast, too, though not as fast as his friend with the pigtail, who seemed to have more of a human dueling style to his attacks. The bandanna boy seemed to compensate for his speed deficiency with more weapons, either of the bladed variety in some version of the Iron Cloth technique, or an incredibly durable umbrella, of all things.   
  
Luckily, he had the worst curse of the lot. It had been a bit of a gamble, hoping that the water would take him out of the equation early, but it had paid off. From his fights with the two, he'd definitely end up having more trouble in a fair fight with the pig boy, rather than the fem boy, though he'd really only skirmished with the latter. It was the reason he'd been glad he'd still had that brown haired girl as a hostage, since she and the pig cursed martial artist were obviously an item.  
  
What was this other one's name again?  
  
"Saotome Ranma," Taro thought to himself, his excellent memory recalling the name the girl had used to describe the guy in the Chinese clothes. What concerned Taro about the little faggot was mainly his style - it was obviously Joketsuzoku inspired. He hadn't been sure at first, but the girl he had seen at that restaurant before, and who was now looking for him, was also obviously a martial artist. He wasn't totally sure, but he did remember hearing about an Amazon girl getting a curse recently. Yes, while training with her mentor, one of the Joketsuzoku Elders - no doubt that old crone that had sent him flying back in Tokyo.   
  
Shan Pu.  
  
Khu Lon.  
  
"Interesting," Taro couldn't help but smile. That little bit of information could come in handy. One last quick leap carried him to the left of his target, whose back was still to him, and Taro immediately reached for a nearby rope, concealed as a vine. Below, the pigtailed martial artist seemed to get an inclining of the trap, and turned just as the rocks fell away and a wave of water exploded out of the opening into the sunken area he was standing in.  
  
Taro scowled, as his target jumped just an instant before the water could hit him. The other boy obviously had well honed danger precognition. Better, perhaps, than Taro's own. Ranma twisted in midair, ricocheted off a side of the wall, and towards where Taro had been standing. 'Had' being the imperative word. He had several backup traps set up for just such a contingency, all in areas near where the main traps were set off. And even if his opponent was quick and wary enough to avoid those, there was always his backup third tier of defenses set up on the temple battlefield itself.   
  
Chuckling softly to himself, Taro went to work.  
  
***  
  
"Come on. Come on... work, damn it."  
  
Sighing in defeat, Nabiki Tendo finally gave up trying to weaken her pantyhose-binds by scraping them against the rock she was tied to. It was too slick to do any good, and the pantyhose themselves seemed to be unusually strong. Not for the first time, she felt a buildup of anger rise above her emotional controls. As it came, a slightly tingling sensation in her arms began to build up, as she strained against all reason.   
  
Slowly, she remembered that there was no way she'd be able to break free using brute force, and the sensation died down and finally disappeared. Her concrete block-breaking sister could probably have broken free eventually, but regular all-too-human Tendo Nabiki? Not a chance. Still, there was that tingling in her arms... and she had been feeling stronger and in better shape than ever before over the last couple weeks and months. Ryouga had never really explained exactly what his Ki infusion did to her, and every time she asked, he gave some roundabout explanation about how he wasn't completely sure, and that it had something to do about life force and spiritual focus and a bunch of other quasi-religious mumbo jumbo.   
  
So she'd pretty much forgotten about it.  
  
Until now, anyway.  
  
Now here she was, tied up in some dank dark cave, a piece of bait in some idiot's trap. And audacity of that creep continued to astound her. He'd single handedly pissed off everyone she knew, nearly killed two people in her family, and now totally humiliated her in front of everyone, including Ryouga. It was unforgivable. Of course, now Ryouga had turned into P-chan, and was probably miles away, Ranma was probably already splashed, and if Shampoo had also been taken out of action... that left Ranma-chan to fight Taro, probably in his monster form, all by him/herself.  
  
Not good.  
  
Mentally, she went over Ranma's chances, given what she'd observed, and what Ryouga had told her in half a dozen past conversations. His most powerful move, the Hiryu Shoten Ha, wouldn't help here, as she'd never seen or felt Taro unleash a battle aura, in either form. His version of the Happo Dai Karin wasn't nearly as refined or as powerful as Happosai's, and using it drained Ranma's Ki reserves more than it was usually worth. The Umisenken was a great school against human opponents, and its ability to 'cloak' the user, as Ryouga had called it, was very useful, but ultimately it was designed as a counter to another school of techniques called the Yamisenken, which Saotome Genma alone remembered how to practice. The Amaguriken was a very good general-purpose move, but not all powerful by itself.  
  
The sound of a foot splashing through a shallow puddle drew Nabiki's attention back to the here and now. Her eyes well adjusted to the darkness, she could make out someone's outline, and even crouched, it was too small to be Ryouga, Ranma or Taro, which left Shampoo or Akane. In the gloom, she could make out the long hair, see Shampoo look up, and finally spot her from around a large rock that had probably been hiding her from view since the other girl had entered the cave.  
  
"Ah. Shampoo find you!" She stepped forward, confidently now.  
  
"Grmf!" Nabiki suddenly realized she sounded more like a certain sign-wielding panda than herself. Her attempt to warn Shampoo of the trap she was about to trip failed miserably, as the Chinese girl's ankle hit the tripwire, and a heartbeat later soaked her with several gallons of freezing cold water.  
  
"Merow!" Shampoo complained, in her apparent direction, shrugging out of her now useless clothes.  
  
"Grmf!"  
  
"Mrew!"  
  
"Gmmfr!"  
  
"Che." Taro easily snuck up behind the angry feline, and lifted her up by the scruff of the neck. "All too easy."  
  
"Mowr! Mowr!" Shampoo-neko scratched wildly, but couldn't get her claws anywhere near close enough to touch the arrogant young man. Taro spared her a quick glance, and his smile faded into a quick frown. With a hard flick of his middle finger, he struck her between the eyes, and knocked the small animal out cold.  
  
"Stupid Amazon bitch." Taro sneered, and suddenly realized he'd said that in Mandarin. He quickly looked over to see if his hostage had understood what he'd said, and then decided he didn't really care. She was too in the dark to understand everything anyway, no matter how smart she thought she was. Tucking the now unconscious Shampoo-neko under his arm, he reached down, and undid the knot keeping Nabiki tied down.   
  
"Come on, girlie." He pulled her up, and started towards the cave entrance. "I've got a queer bastard to skin, and you get to watch. Won't that be fun?"  
  
She grumbled something in reply that sounded awfully like an unladylike curse, and it almost made Taro smile. This girl was a lot wittier and verbally abusive than the other one, who mostly sulked and looked about to lash out at him. Of course, once he was finished with the cross dresser, and had hunted down and taken care of his animal friends, he'd lure out and bargain their ...remaining lives for a change of name from that perverted old man. Given that he'd jumped to the girls' defense earlier, and that he'd pulled back when they were in danger, it was virtually certain that he'd capitulate and comply with Taro's demands.  
  
And if not, he wagered that the old bastard's mind would change when he started mailing bit and pieces back to their weeping old man. After his official business here was completed, AND his name was changed, he'd be back off to China. He was already running a little late, and potentially angering several parties whose attention he had. Taro hated them all, pretty much, but some more than others. ...Some much more than others.  
  
"Up we go!" He jumped, keeping a tight hold of his charge as they moved from rock to rock on their way to the top. The girl didn't seem to like being dragged around, but Taro really didn't care less. He wasn't a bad guy, he always figured, just a guy dealt a bad hand and doing what needed to be done to get ahead. In a dog eat dog world, you don't worry about what you're eating, or who you're beating to the punch.   
  
At the top, near the temple, he tied Nabiki up to one of the supports near an old well. He toyed with the idea of drop kicking the annoying Amazon girl-turned-cat into the sea, but decided against it. She'd be another valuable hostage when the time came. Only the two men were really disposable at the moment. Scratching his chin, he picked up a sturdy wooden pole, and walked over to the edge of the battlefield, giving the whole place a once over, and making sure everything was ready and in place.  
  
He didn't have long to wait.  
  
"What's this? A faggot in my very own front yard? I thought those people came by and sprayed just the other day." Taro hopped down a bit, one foot's heel grinding into Ranma's hand as he neared the top of his climb even as he gave him a falsely warm smile. "Still... I'm impressed that you can this far without getting wet. Out of respect, I won't dumb water on you, femboy. How's about that?"  
  
"You sure that's smart?" Ranma smirked, ignoring the pain in his hand. "You may regret not turning me into a girl, Pantyhose Prince."  
  
That last insult seemed to cut especially deep, and Taro's smile disappeared instantly. With one end of the wooden pole he held, the Chinese youth dug it into the other boy's right shoulder, grinding it mercilessly until the wood snapped in half. A trickle of blood gave proof that it had broken the skin under Ranma's silk shirt.  
  
"That was for our last encounter, you little prick." Taro's voice was cold, but he was obviously back in control of his emotions as he threw the remains of the pole aside and stepped back a few feet. "Come on up, cross dresser. I want to take you apart myself."  
  
Ranma quickly climbed up the last few feet, and followed his opponent to an open area. It was dark, but he could see Nabiki and Shampoo, the latter in her cat form, tied up to several posts near an old stone well. Akane was still below, making her way up. She had insisted on coming, but in the actual climbing had lagged behind. He'd hoped for as much; it wouldn't do for her to get in the way when the actual fighting started.   
  
"So I guess we're even then, huh?" Ranma slid his left foot back, and got into a low crouch. "Good. That means I won't have to pull my punches as much then."  
  
Taro simply took the pantyhose wrapped around his right arm and threw it to the ground, revealing an unwounded arm largely healed from before. Even with his eyes closed, he'd be able to lead this arrogant fool into half the geyser traps the other boy didn't even know had been scouted out. He'd still soak this Saotome Ranma, and then deal with him at his leisure. Slowly, Taro got into a lazy stance Ranma didn't recognize, one leg forward.  
  
"Alright, you Pantyhose Pirate!" Ranma let out some of his cold battle aura, felt it energize him, and accelerated forward, nearly a blur. He opened up with a barrage of blows, mixing closed fists with open palms, searching a weakness. Amazingly, Taro blurred backwards, despite not manifesting any battle aura at all, his forearm bracers and hands blocking all the attacks.  
  
Taro recognized it as the unspoken version of the Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken - a filthy Joketsuzoku technique stolen from the Seven Lucky Gods School, which he was also familiar with. Still, this was the fastest he'd ever seen it performed. Content to observe for the moment, Taro kept up his alternating passive /active defense, noting that the blows behind the individual strikes were much less than he remembered this same boy's regular strikes being. It seemed that this Ranma fellow was either new to the technique (not likely, given the speed he used it at), holding back dramatically (also not likely given the wild nature of the technique itself), or more used to concentrating his blows at a single point rather than trying to use them to overwhelm an opponent.  
  
"Come on, you underwear addict! Fight back, why don't ya?"  
  
No doubt the latter, due to the nature of his friend: the boy with the bandanna and rock hard constitution. Backing up further, and relying on his memory of the battlefield, Taro drew his opponent into a trap, even as he observed his abilities. Finally, sensing that the moment was right, he waited, leaving an opportunity for the other fighter to take.  
  
"I'm gonna end this right now!!"  
  
A foolish lunge, and a quick scoot to the left, and Ranma found his fist buried in a wall, and a second later, himself doused by water. Before he could even bat an eye, he was a she, and she was in serious trouble. Taro chuckled softly. "Did I forget to mention that behind nearly every stone here is a wall of water about to burst through? You should be more careful femboy."  
  
"Do you know what that was... that was just plain cheap!" Ranma-chan turned, and attacked wildly, but her charge was cut immediately short as a kick to the nerve clusters in the neck stunned her for a moment. It would have easily snapped the neck of a normal man, or paralyzed even a very tough individual, but Ranma-chan's Ki protected her, and she recovered before her feet touched the ground.   
  
"Cross dressing freak!" Taro lowered his leg, his voice dripping contempt. "I don't show mercy to real women. How do you think I deal with man-chasing fags like you?"  
  
Taro moved with remarkable speed, his right hand firing in pistol like blows before the last word had even left his mouth. Ranma-chan kept moving, to the left, right, back, erratically avoiding the blows. Taro was fighting at a speed that almost rivaled Ryouga when he went all out, but Ranma-chan knew she was an order of magnitude faster still. The problem now was doing damage. Her standard tactic, a refined and focused version of the Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken, worked well against the lost boy, though she knew all too well that in girl form even that wouldn't do much but annoy the Hibiki fighter.  
  
But against Taro... he couldn't possibly be tough enough to take it. What she needed was an opportunity - an opening to set up and deliver the steady stream of blows. The Pantyhose boy seemed to almost be expecting it by keeping a hand in constant position to block and counter, and simply wasn't giving her the chance to get a good set of shots in. Worse, he wasn't generating a battle aura of any significance, which meant the Hiryu Shoten Ha was out of question. A different approach was in order.  
  
"I'm going to make you eat those words!" Ranma-chan jumped and flipped, up and over her opponent, locked her ankles around his neck and upper torso, and used her momentum to bring him to the ground, the back of Taro's head taking the brunt of the impact as he hit the hard ground. Nabiki watched, and winced as the ground exploded in a geyser of water, obscuring the two. Expecting to see Taro's cursed form blast out, she instead saw Ranma shielding him with her body, as the eruption of water dwindled to a trickle.  
  
"Thanks a bunch, cross dresser!" Taro scrunched up a bit, locked his legs around Ranma-chan's chest, and slammed her face first into the ground nearby. As another geyser of water blew up and into Ranma-chan's face, Taro got to his feet, and brushed his hands together almost playfully as he walked towards the water fountain. "Now... time for *me* to change."  
  
"I don't think so!" Ranma-chan's voice had a panicked edge to it, as she leapt into a hasty jump kick, that Taro easily avoided.   
  
"Ha!" Taro gave a curt laugh as he struck out, nailing Ranma-chan across the jaw and sending her flying back. "I was only kidding, cross dresser! Don't soil yourself."  
  
Ranma rolled back, and got to her feet quickly. Taro snapped his fingers, and stomped, once, cracking the ground under his left foot. Ranma was forced to attack again, as water splashed out, threatening to turn the Chinese youth into his cursed form.  
  
"Hey!" Ranma-chan was cut off, as soon as she came through the upwards-bound water, by another of Taro's blows, delivered in a casual manner. Ranma wiped a bit of blood from her lower lip, frustration and anger written on her features. She was losing her cool, and everyone knew it except her.  
  
"Will you stop that?!"  
  
"Why?" Taro gave a quick laugh, "This is so much fun... Come on, aren't you having fun, you queer bastard?"  
  
"Why... you!!" Ranma-chan's cool aura faded, replaced by red-hot anger. "Nobody... Nobody calls me that and gets away with it!" 


	2. Learning Curve part 17

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XVII (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
"Why? Why so many people come to Jyusekyou?"  
  
The Guide looked down at Mousse's body, and wiped his brow. Carrying the Chinese youth all the way to the edge of western Jyusenkyou, a side of the springs that, thankfully, most avoided, hadn't been easy, but it hadn't been too hard either. No, it was just an unusually hot day. Or maybe he was just nervous. He knew, of course, that the boy and his companion had been coming, but not that they'd arrive so soon.   
  
Reaching behind him, the Guide's hand found the reassuring grip of his nine-millimeter Colt. He had been a soldier, once, a long time ago, but the sad fact was that his adopted daughter, Plum, probably knew twice as much martial arts as he did, simply because she hung around with other girls her age in the Joketsuzoku village. Gods to the left, super powered warriors to the right... where did that leave him? In the middle, really, which was where he needed to be.  
  
He thought, very briefly, about putting a bullet between Mousse's eyes.   
  
The boy had seen Herb, and would almost certainly not be content to leave things as they were, which was already bad enough. The Guide had carefully picked out the monkey for Herb to throw in the spring of drowned girl. The Prince hadn't, as he knew, thought anything of the poor creature's kicking and screeching, and wouldn't have until it was too late, and he ended up with a curse.  
  
And a weakness.  
  
That had been the plan the Society handed down.   
  
"So many tragedies." The Guide shook his head, but his hand ultimately left his weapon tucked away in his belt, out of sight. Walking away, the Jyusenkyou Guide sighed, wearily. Old age was obviously catching up on him.  
  
Then again, he really hadn't wanted that plan to succeed anyway.  
  
***  
  
"Come on, cross dresser! Come on, you sick fag! Is that all you got? Huh?" Taro twisted, blocked the roundhouse with one of his forearm bracers, and jabbed. Ranma-chan was obviously hurt, he could tell despite the way she hid it by switching postures and stances, but she was still flexible and fast enough to avoid, and catch the blow in he left hand. Taro smirked, and pulled back and up, snapping his fist out of her small hand and straight into her face. Momentarily caught off balance, he didn't hesitate to take advantage of it with a flurry of tiger strikes to the face and shoulders.  
  
Ranma, even in his cursed girl form, was still a formidable opponent. Taro knew, and had known from the beginning, that fighting a male Saotome Ranma, with neither of them holding back, would be a bloody and Pyrrhic victory at best. It was an amazing revelation, that there could be people his age, with his level of speed, strength and skill, especially considering all the special training Taro underwent before he came to Japan, just in case he found the freak responsible for his true curse, and needed to beat the life out of him to make him change it. Regardless, it had been essential to weaken the other boy, and though Ranma's cursed form was still human, and still allowed him to fight, at least it greatly decreased his strength. The added speed, he could deal with. The weakened blows were like a godsend.   
  
Suddenly, Ranma-chan kicked out and back, a spray of dust kicked up by her left foot as it skidded across the ground. The blow had hit Taro soundly in the chest, but had been easily absorbed by his dragonscale armor, as had the many he'd taken to the forearms. His clothes were a miracle in and of themselves - they were fashionable, and went well with a pantyhose sash that Taro kept around as both a weapon of last resort, and a reminder of his vow to change his name. They also magically reformed when he transformed, a necessity to keep from ending up naked half the time, and they provided superb protection from impact blows and even cutting attempts.   
  
Taro gritted his teeth, and pressed the attack once more. Cutting his dash forward short, he lowered his head and twisted, letting his momentum carry his feet forward. Ranma-chan avoided the low attack, but was unprepared for him spinning in midair, and pummeling her with his fists. She had been stunned, for only the second time in their fight. Feet touching ground, Taro moved in, and jammed both his hands into her lower ribcage, and hooked his fingers up. He'd been aiming to snap two or three ribs, but Ranma-chan's erratic squirming, and his odd position, had thrown him off. Not to be deterred, or too disappointed, Taro brought his right palm up and into her jaw.  
  
He was tempted to toy around with her, but decided to simply end things.   
  
Ranma-chan screamed, blood flowing from her mouth, and stumbled back. Instinctively, her hands came up to block a snap kick to her neck, and she crouched to defend against another to the solar plexus, only to have a third, performed in nearly as many heartbeats, connect with her temple, right above her left eye. Nearly blinded, and now seeing stars, she rolled back, and jumped... high.  
  
"Do you really think that's going to save you from me?" Taro laughed, and pivoted, watching impassively as Ranma-chan reached the apex of her leap. "Maybe I should..."  
  
And disappeared.  
  
"...What?" Taro blinked a few times. He still couldn't see her. "What the hell?"  
  
Did the cross dresser just do what he thought he had seen? Had he just vanished, out of the blue? No... it had to be a technique of some sort. Taro quickly checked his mental inventory of techniques, both those that he himself could do, those he had seen done, and those he had heard of, and came up with a few possibilities. There were three different types of non-Musk type invisibility Ki techniques, two that shunted the user into another plane, smaller and more compact than our own (according to a theory he'd heard). Those two were Japanese techniques, restricted to an unknown school, and several hundred heard old, supposedly lost over time. The other was a Polynesian-Chinese technique that clouded the mind. The Saotome boy had known, at the very least, the Amaguriken technique, was it possible he'd picked this up as well, from some unknown source?  
  
Twenty feet away, the ground cracked, and a geyser of water erupted. In it, Taro's keen eyes saw the highlight of ...something humanoid. Taro's eyes narrowed, but he still couldn't make out the form of the person clearly, but his brain was still working. Obviously, this wasn't any form of mind clouding, or else the fountain of water would still have concealed the user. No, this technique was actually bending light around its practitioner. A powerful technique indeed, but it must have weaknesses. Closing his eyes, Taro concentrated, and inhaled deeply.  
  
Opening his eyes, he could just barely see it. The human mind, under-equipped as it was to deal with senses beyond its normal operating parameters, saw things in a limited fashion. Taro had been tapping into hints of his cursed form's powers for years, virtually his whole life. He'd conditioned both his mind, and his body, to it. He could see, on the periphery, the tiny wafting flavor of scent around him. Hints from the girl, and even the cat, nearby. A million other minute distractions, tuned out. And, finally...  
  
"I have you!"  
  
Taro felt his hand find purchase, and in a flicker of air and light, Ranma-chan reappeared, her head snapped back from Taro's risky haymaker. They'd been fighting for almost twenty minutes, and Ranma was definitely getting the worst of the confrontation. Catching the other boy's wrist, Taro snapped him in and intercepted Ranma with an elbow to the throat. Ranma-chan gasped for air, and Taro clasped both hands around her neck, choking the life out of her.  
  
"Time... to die, cross dresser." Taro's mouth became a crooked sneer, devoid of mercy. "You shouldn't have f..."  
  
He never got to finish his sentence.  
  
"Leave... him... ALONE!!"  
  
Akane swung, her voice nearly breaking, her muscles straining from anger and effort, as the face of her mallet met Taro's with all the finesse and grace of a baseball bat cracking open some poor sucker's knees. The Chinese boy fought against the urge to pass out, and regained his equilibrium in midair, shifting his weight so that his feet touched the ground, and even then, digging long furrows before he came to a stop. Looking up, his eyes slightly hazy, he saw that girl, with the short blue hair, holding Ranma-chan in one arm, and the cracked and splintered end of something wooden in the other.  
  
Then, red clouded his right eye, and he reached up. His hand came back sticky and bloodied, and as his fingers brushed past them, he could feel the splinters digging into his skin and scraping damn near against bone. A long bloody gash had been opened along the side of his face, from just above the right eyebrow down to just below the ear. A roar of pain and rage tore from his throat, and he moved like the wind blew. Before Akane could even think about mounting some kind of defense, Taro's fist was buried nearly up to the wrist in her midriff.  
  
"Akane!!"  
  
It was almost in stereo, but Taro didn't care who had said it. He'd kill this bitch for doing that to him. He'd kill all of them, and then come back for the old man while he slept, or mourned... it didn't matter. Only payment mattered now. Revenge! Stepping back, Akane reeled, but still tried to raise her hands in defense. In her eyes, he saw that she knew how outmatched she was - that she had no chance, no chance at all, of fighting him on anything resembling even footing. For a moment, a very brief moment, Taro actually cared.  
  
"Bitch!" He backhanded her, and she caught sky before landing, roughly, on her side, some ten feet away. He thought about following up, but barely had time to block, as Ranma-chan exploded into a furious creature of blows and nails and hate filled eyes. The assault was overwhelming in its intensity, and its animalistic fervor. Searching for an escape, and a respite from the fingers tearing at his defenses to get at his eyes, Taro found himself hammered with an explosion up close. He felt his skin blister from the heat, even as the smell of burnt flesh and saltpeter mingled in his nostrils. He slammed almost immediately into rock, which quickly gave way to water. Blessed cool water, that brought both relief, and...  
  
Pain, first. The pain of his limbs stretching, threatening to tear out of their sockets, shot through his body and danced along his nerves. It came and went in but a moment, replaced by a surge of heat and electricity, flowing from the horns that were starting to erupt from his head, all the way to his feet, where his toes were fusing into hooves. For a second, his body was not his own, even after all these years, and all these transformations, and then he was looking down at the insects that would do him harm. The tiny redheaded girl-thing jumped at him, her eyes alight with savage fury, but Taro swatted her down as one would a fly.  
  
Then the ground exploded, and Taro instinctively jumped up, his wings starting to move, catching hold of invisible updrafts. He could feel the heat of this waterspout, and at its heart, a flaming figure, trailing heat of his own. A tiny fist, tiny but packing power enough to level a building, slipped past the astonished monster's hands, and collided with Taro's lower jaw in a flying uppercut. Taro felt himself go end over end, but his wings spread, and he flipped around in time to block a hailstorm of bandannas, thrown from the apex of Ryouga's jump.   
  
They were as pinpricks to a giant, and Taro-monster shrugged them off. Bringing both hands back, and lunging forward, Taro followed the lost boy's uncontrolled descent, and intercepted him with both palms in a resounding thunderclap, crushing the Hibiki boy like the offending bug he was. Diving, his cargo still in his massive grip, Taro opened his cupped hands at the last second, driving them, and the man trapped in them, into the ground. Lifting his hands, and feeling the cold water pouring up from the blasted impact site, he saw only a little black dot. Raising a titanic hoof, Taro readied to crush the little creature.  
  
Only to have it snatched away at the last second by a purple and pink blur.  
  
"The Amazon bitch?" Taro thought, watching her race around, and throw the little black piglet into the earlier created hot water spurt. He looked, momentarily at his other hostage, the brown haired loudmouthed girl, who had been tied up by the old well. Sure enough, she was still tied up, but now standing... and she was wet. And it seemed as if her sister had managed to drag herself over to her as well. Suddenly it made sense. The damn Amazon, in her cat form, probably chewed through the single length of pantyhose keeping Nabiki tied down. The other girl had then ran over to the hot water spout, taking the cat with her, and gotten her loose, and now she was standing there, hoping he hadn't noticed, with the other girl.  
  
Damn it.  
  
Roaring again, he turned on the now three martial artists, two male and one female, and none in their cursed forms. Idiots. Didn't they know that an animal was at its most dangerous when cornered? Wings flexed, Taro rose higher into the air, pulled up, and got additional altitude. Going into a quick barrel roll, and flipping into a controlled dive, Taro bent both his legs and readied for the collision. He was headed right for the old well, and if anything would move the two more dangerous martial artists, it would be their girlfriends about to be smashed into red paste.  
  
Sure enough, he saw them move, which left the Amazon alone and the two boys' hands full. Landing almost lightly, but still with a thunderous crash, Taro crouched and whipped around. To his annoyance, the Amazon was quick on her feet, and avoided him as he struck at her with both fists, sending jets of cold water up and out of the ground with every missed blow. Still, they were divided, and he was ready for them - a far more preferable situation than it had been before.  
  
Straightening out, as Ranma and Ryouga charged in, blows raining down on the monster's torso, Taro twisted his upper body slightly, and brought an elbow down, catching the slightly slower, but far stronger, one of the two in the back of the head. Ryouga flew down, and crashed into the ground on all fours, cushioning the damage and blowing a small crater out under him, but preventing a rush of water from blasting out at him from below. Ignoring Ranma for the moment, he slammed down with one fist, then the other, pulverizing the prone lost boy, before rolling on his back to keep the pigtailed martial artist from blindsiding him.   
  
Shaking his coat of fur like a dog, Taro saw Shampoo and Ranma come in low for a flying kick. Ranma was injured fairly badly, and Shampoo was keeping pace with him. Stepping back at the last second, as they leapt, Taro's hands shot out like cobras, snatching each in midair. Leaning forward, his weight on his right leg, Taro then slammed both into the ground, kicking up two explosions of rock and freezing cold water. Then, without warning, pain shot up from his tail.  
  
Looking over his massive shoulder, Taro saw Ryouga holding onto his eel-tail, part of it wrapped around the lost boy's straining right arm. With a howl of effort, and a mighty heave to the side, Ryouga pulled the Taro-monster off its feet and into the air. Cursing to himself, and starting to feel a twinge of true panic, the Chinese martial artist concentrated, and instantly his tail lit up with power, as thousands of volts blasted down Taro's spine, into his eel-tail, and through the soaking wet Hibiki boy on its way to the ground.  
  
Muscles threatening to tear, nerves on fire, heart beating erratically, and tendons on the verge of snapping like rubber bands, Ryouga pulled back, and spun Taro by his tail over his head one last time, before bringing his arms down, and slamming Taro's bulk into the ground. The tortured earth groaned and cracked in protest, before giving out completely. The entire area, broken and riddled with holes, and already porous with underground waterways, had taken enough damage. Huge cracks, wide enough to swallow a man whole, snaked out from the impact site.   
  
Ryouga winced silently, and let go of the eel-tail. Steam rose from his form, and every muscle in his body began to fade from fatigue and built up damage. He saw, despite his unclear vision, the brown furred body of Taro slip into the gaping hole ahead of him. His ears hurt, but mixed with an angry, desperate, howl, he heard the roar of the ground below, deep below, straining and cracking. It was a sound he had caused enough in his own time; it was like an old friend.  
  
Or an old foe.   
  
It seemed difficult to tell the difference recently.  
  
He felt like sagging down to his knees and passing out, but raw stubbornness kept him standing. Shaking his head violently, Ryouga looked to his side and saw Ranma and Shampoo, in her cat form, unconscious. Running over on weak legs, he picked Shampoo up in one hand, and Ranma-chan in the other. Shaking the latter, he was rewarded with Ranma-chan's eyes opening, frantically. Their eyes caught each other, and Ryouga let her stand on her own.  
  
"Nabiki," he said.  
  
"Akane," Ranma replied, and turned around, looking for the remains of the old well. To their left, another section of the temple outcropping crumbled and fell in on itself. Ranma's vision seemed to better than his rival's.  
  
"I see them!" He yelled, and ran over. Ryouga simply followed. After the cascade of water had hit him, he'd been washed away, unable to fight the current in his piglet body. He'd ended up near their original campsite, and had, by pure luck, found a hot spring he and Shampoo had passed while tracking for Ranma. His clothes had been washed in with him, so he had gotten dressed and headed out, half expecting not to find the place for a day or more. It hadn't taken that long, thank goodness, but he'd still been late. He was always late!  
  
Ryouga stopped, and gasped when he saw Akane. She had a trickle of blood on her lower lip, and a nasty welt growing on her cheek. That pantyhose freak had hit her! The bastard had actually hit her! A flash of anger came, and lingered, only to be overpowered by fear. Hastily he turned to Nabiki, keeping Shampoo tucked carefully under his arm. Removing her gag, he saw tears down her face. Emotion welled up, stronger than anything he'd ever felt, and he pulled her to his chest, feeling her erratic breathing against his body. She hadn't been hurt. A single blow from that bastard could easily have...  
  
He didn't even think about it further.   
  
Picking her up, he nodded to Ranma-chan, who held Akane like one would the most precious and fragile fine china. Together, they leapt up and onto the Temple roof, and then over the massive fissure that had swallowed up Taro's monstrous form. The ground beneath them was like cardboard, and instantly buckled, but the two martial artists were already airborne. Jumping from rock to rock, amid the rubble and crumpling boulders, around and past erupting water traps, they didn't even see the Temple of the Watery Grave give one last groan, before collapsing completely into a titanic landslide.  
  
They never even looked back.  
  
***   
  
Ukyou woke up with a headache powerful enough to keep a Thai Kick boxer in bed. Shaking her head slightly, she amended that. There was disorientation, and the headache was receding rapidly, but it was still there, in the back of her mind. Blinking a few times, and rubbing her closed eyes thoroughly with the palms of her hands, she reached up, expecting her cotton bow, but felt only hair. Something was wrong.  
  
Her senses cleared up almost instantly, then. Ukyou's eyes opened, and she realized where she was. Or where she wasn't - this wasn't Jyusenkyou. She was in a room, broad, rectangular, with high ceilings. A lavish wooden dresser with two tall glass mirrors sat nearby, while the far end of the room sported another ornate door, with a great many carved inlays. There was also a desk, with books and what looked like scrolls on it, flanked by two potted ferns that clung to a latticework of white wood. The room itself was gently lit from above, where she could see two rows of lights, maybe halogen or phosphorescent, set into the stone ceiling, with small wires, somewhat difficult to see, running to the large door that dominated the place.   
  
It was almost a relief, to see that little bit of technology, after being in rural and outback China for so long. Quickly, she checked her clothes, and sighed with relief to see that she was still in them. Looking for her weapons, she saw her megaspatula lying against the wall, next to the soft bed she had been sleeping on, and her bandolier draped across its larger comrade in arms. Quickly, Ukyou slid out of and off the bed. Strapping the bandolier on, and feeling the reassuring grip of her megaspatula in her hands, she approached the room's large wooden door. Her first thought was to smash it down with the blunt end of her spatula, but then, on a lark, she decided to at least try opening it.  
  
It swung open without resistance.   
  
The corridor was long, but also softly lit, and made of cleanly carved and well-maintained stonework. Running her hand experimentally along it, she saw that some of the blocks were truly huge, both in size and obviously in weight. Additionally, there wasn't any sign of masonry or plaster between the stones, rather they fit together like toy blocks, carved with careful precision and fitting together superbly. The ceiling was slightly higher than her rooms, she figured, and probably around ten to twelve feet high. The craftsmanship was impressive and monolithic, and like nothing she'd ever seen before.  
  
Looking down the two ends of the hall, Ukyou arbitrarily took a left. Grimly, she realized that she wouldn't have much room to swing, even though the hall was quite wide, and without that berth, her megaspatula wouldn't help that much in a fight. Annoyed, she locked it into the holster on her back, and kept going. She came, first, to another large wooden door on her right. Set in what looked like inlaid gold were three characters she didn't recognize. The door was unlocked, she noted, and cautiously opened it.  
  
She saw a large room, longer than hers, but without any extra doors, except an open closet, and a large set of screens on a nearby wall. The closet caught her eye, and making sure no one was inside, she walked over, noting the large bed, and large mirror on the far side of the room, accompanied by what looked like a fur rug on the smooth stone floor. In the closet, Ukyou saw a true juxtaposition - hanging side by side were what looked like leather and metal armor, maybe three suits, and at least three times that number dresses of assorted varieties, all seemingly custom made. Granted, Ukyou knew she'd never been particularly girly, but she had an idea of what it meant to be a woman, and though she had never put down money for one, she had toyed with the idea of wearing actual dresses. She even had a few skirts, herself, though she never quite got up the courage to wear them in public.  
  
"Wow." She quickly stepped back, away from the closet, and opened the screens nearby. They pulled back, revealing a large collection of knives, some hung carefully, and others slightly imbedded in a long piece of soft wood. Most were not ornate, and as she leaned in, recognized them as combat knives - the kind weighted for balance, but otherwise not especially unusual. Ukyou herself ordered her mini-spatulas from a custom dealer she had contacts with through her father.   
  
She backed up, and into something. Spinning, a min-spatula in her hand, Ukyou felt her wrist caught in someone's hand, as her own momentum was used to flip her over. She landed on her back with a soft thump, and looked up at her captor - a woman. Not even Asian, she looked American... or at least Caucasian. She also didn't seem to be attacking. Rolling to the side, Ukyou got back to her feet. The woman pointed to her mini-spatula and said something in English. It was, however, too quick for Ukyou to follow. Remembering her lessons at Furinkan, and even before that, Ukyou thought for a second, and decided to try and communicate.  
  
"Erro," she said, experimentally.  
  
"Hello," The other woman replied, more slowly this time.  
  
"Doa rou spreak Jrapanese?" Ukyou tried. It was one of the many phrases they had students memorize. The other woman shook her head and said something in rough Chinese. Ukyou put her hands up, and put away her mini-spatula back into her bandolier.  
  
"Mia nammu iz Kuonji Ukyou. I amu from Jrapan. Whata isu your nammu?"  
  
"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Lufberry. From England." The woman finally switched to passable Japanese. She leaned in closer to the younger girl. "You must be new here."  
  
"I... I am," Ukyou stopped when she heard footsteps. Turning, she saw a man, an old man, but not shriveled like Happosai. He was tall, though not particularly lean, and his hair was cut so close to his head that Ukyou wouldn't have been able to tell whether he was bald of not except by the fact that his hair was a creamy white, while the rest of his head was like a brown paper bag that had been crumpled, smoothed, crumpled again and stretched tight over a skull. He looked leathery and tough. Then she saw his eyes glint in the light.  
  
They were yellowish gold.  
  
He said something quick to the older English woman, then faced Ukyou and spoke in slightly accented Japanese. "I see you are awake, Miss. Please, if you would follow me?"  
  
"Who are you?" She gripped her spatula tightly, desperately. "Where am I?"  
  
"I am Borage. And this is Sach Khandu - the Eternal Palace of the Dragon Lord."  
  
"Dragon Lord?"  
  
"The young Prince Herb."  
  
"Herb?" Ukyou thought back. Mousse had called him that - the guy that attacked them at Jyusenkyou. "You mean the jackass that kidnapped me?"'  
  
Borage blinked, and considered that. "He sent me to fetch you from your slumber. To meet his highness in the Courtyard."  
  
Courtyard?  
  
An open area would be far easier to escape from, Ukyou figured. Besides, it was definitely best to figure out what was going on before doing anything drastic. And she owed that Prince Herb fellow for blasting poor Mousse and knocking her out. As the two made to leave, Ukyou heard a soft "Bye" from behind. She followed the old man down the hall, past several other closed doors, one of which was slightly ajar, and into an even larger hall that branched out two other ways.   
  
"These lights," Ukyou spoke up. "Is there a city nearby you're getting the power from?"  
  
"We Musk are not a primitive people like the Joketsuzoku or the Phoenix." Borage's pace slowed somewhat. "We have electrical generators to provide power where it is necessary."   
  
"And the lights themselves?" Ukyou pressed. If there was a city or town nearby...  
  
"Our contacts with the outside bring them in, along with other things occasionally desired. You should consider your position here before making any plans for escape, however." Borage didn't seem concerned with the prospect. "The nearest... people are the half human Phoenix savages. Their hospitality would be as warm as a snake's in its den. I can attest to that personally. You are safer here, among the Musk."  
  
"The Musk... Mousse mentioned you guys."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"He didn't paint a favorable picture."  
  
"This Mu Tzu sounds Joketsuzoku. They have a unique relationship with us... The dislike is mutual, I assure you."  
  
"And me?" Ukyou paused, as they walked past another woman, obviously pregnant, who was walking in the opposite direction. "I'm not an Amazon."  
  
"Obviously." He snorted. "However, it is not my place to ...presume. At least not at the moment."  
  
"Presume what?" Ukyou questioned, but Borage remained silent. Finally they came to an archway, supported by pillars, which opened out over a small valley area, flanked on all sides by great tall monolithic pillars, and high cliffs. Below, amid the trees, floated the sounds of battle. Walking down a long set of marble steps, and under a large Triumph like archway, the two came to a slightly sunken area, with a large square stone arena, the four sides decorated by large obelisks that reached up nearly forty feet. At center stage, two warriors were locked in a play of swords on Pudao-like polearm, dancing and clashing with grace and speed. On a throne overlooking the area sat the same royal brat Ukyou recognized from before, in slightly more ornate clothes, two others to his left and right, a young looking kid, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and another guy, with large striped shoulder pads and leg bindings, who was undoubtedly several years older.   
  
In the arena, the two men fighting seemed to sense that their liege's attention would soon turn to other matters. Their moves intensified, with the polearm armed man, a large fellow, his head shaved bald except for a long plume of stark blue hair in the back, and wearing only baggy white pants, pressing the attack with a series of flamboyant and none-too-practical moves. Ukyou couldn't help but admire his controlled ability with the heavy weapon, and the speed he wielded it with. His opponent wasn't unimpressive either, deftly deflecting and docking every one of the showy, but deadly, attacks.  
  
"Sumac," Borage said, as if reading Ukyou's mind. "He is fighting Balm, a fine warrior in his own right. The man on the throne is Herb, and those are his two personal guards, Mint and Lime."  
  
Ukyou got a closer look at the two warriors standing at the Dragon Prince's side. The young one seemed especially interested in the fight. There was a light to his eyes. Awe? She also noted his hair, and the sword strapped behind his back.  
  
"Sumac is Mint's brother," Borage spoke what Ukyou had suspected.   
  
The match below would have undoubtedly have lasted longer if the Sumac had not gotten impatient. Martial arts displays for Prince Herb, or any audience, were fine, but once he ran through his repertoire of pirouette attacks and sweeping poses, it was almost as if there was little additional reason to continue. He'd demonstrated his style, his grace, and his keen technique, he'd given the audience a cheap thrill by nearly getting struck once or twice, and he was ready for a snack. It was time to end things.   
  
With a flourish and a flash of speed he hadn't been using before, Sumac spun, hooked out the other man's legs, and disarmed him of his two Dao sabers. Before he had even hit the ground. Sumac's polearm spun, seemingly wildly, around his right arm, before coming to rest at his side, the tip of the bladed end nearly touching the ground. He bowed; his right arm tucked in, to the throne. "My Liege."  
  
Herb's eyes moved from the prone fighter, to where Ukyou stood, next to Borage, and spoke in clear Japanese. "You defeated your opponent. Finish him."  
  
"Finish him?" Sumac replied in the same tongue, and seemed to think about it for a second longer than he should have, before turning to his fellow Musk. "If you ...insist, my Lord."  
  
"Wait..." The prone Balm gulped, and scrambled back a few feet. "Wait, Sumac... Lord Herb...!"  
  
"This isn't right," Ukyou said, cutting off what the old man next to her was going to say. Angry, driven by astonishment and horror, Ukyou simply moved without thinking, and found herself in the arena, feet firmly planted on either side of the bested warrior's body, her battle aura just starting to fully manifest. She didn't know him, didn't know any of them, didn't even know these people's customs or really where she was, but cold blooded murder... execution, was just wrong, no matter who you were, or who was calling the shots. Maybe once, she could have stood there and not interfered, but not now. She was a different person - a better person! Her charging energy suffused her body as she drew her megaspatula and started to be manifested as a visible blue and red aura.   
  
"Who the hell are you?" The ponytailed Musk, Sumac, narrowed his eyes at her. "A Woman?"  
  
"Jumping to the defense of a beaten man?" Herb stood, and Sumac turned. He bowed again, his weapon to the side. "Very noble ...as I had hoped. Sumac, Balm, you may leave."  
  
Sumac stood and stalked off, Balm close behind, lingering only to retrieve his fallen weapons. Herb approached her, arms wide, Mint and Lime trailing behind and staring at Ukyou intently.  
  
"Come now, speak, woman." Herb stood before her in all his glory. "Let me hear your voice."  
  
She decked him, suddenly, and caught unprepared; Herb fell unceremoniously to the ground, holding his jaw. Ukyou shook the pain out of her right hand.  
  
"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a jackass in a cape."  
  
***  
  
The air was brittle with cold and Plun Gu was glad they'd all brought jackets. Rich scents of earth, hay and the memory of smoke surrounded them, and she felt tall grass brushing against her pants. It was resoundingly silent this high up and this far away. Too far away, really, in case something went wrong. The Elders always associated these mountains with tragedy and strife.  
  
"I still don't get why we have to see it ourselves." She made her concerns known, and not for the first time.  
  
"Aren't you the least bit curious what Jyusenkyou looks like?"  
  
"A little... that's why I'm here, Tso."  
  
"But you don't have to see a cobra to know it's dangerous." Another Amazon, Mir Ru, a tough looking woman with close-cropped hair, spoke up. Tso considered this - it seemed that Plun was not alone in her fear of the place, and her reluctance to make the trek to see it.  
  
"And there could be Musk around," Mir added.  
  
"Let them come!" Tso put up a strong front, and casually flicked her long teal hair behind her. "Three Joketsuzoku warriors... nothing short of the Dragon himself would dare try and take us on. I almost hope we run into one."  
  
Plun and Mir didn't seem as enthusiastic, but it bolstered their pride, and their courage. They continued at a slightly faster pace down the old winding dirt trail, and started down into the Jyusenkyou Valley. They were taking a slightly oblique path into Jyusenkyou, to avoid running into the Guide or anyone else who would record or alert the Elders that the three Amazons had made the secret pilgrimage to the place.   
  
Jyusenkyou was off limits to all Joketsuzoku unless accompanied by an Elder of the Village. The only one who had been allowed to make the trip in recent memory had been Shan Pu, accompanied by Elder Khu Lon, about a year or so ago. Tso Pu's sister, younger by just one year, had returned from her quest to fulfill the Kiss of Death given to an outsider woman twice as long ago. When she had returned, most expected a small celebration commemorating the victory, but there had been nothing - only a conference with the Elders, and a 'training trip' to Jyusenkyou. No one talked about it after that fact, and Shan Pu had left soon after for Japan again.  
  
Apparently, the redheaded outsider woman had been giving Shan Pu more trouble than anyone had expected. Not really surprising, given how easily she had defeated Shan Pu in the Tournament. Finest warrior of her generation Shan Pu was, almost certainly, but she also lacked long term goals or insight. Simply being the strongest and fastest did not guarantee that she would inherit a position of power in the village, or even lead it in lieu of the Council of Elders. Still, Shan had spent two years in Japan, and Tso was more than a little worried for her sister after all this time, even if there was some lingering annoyance that she had been chosen for special training, and Tso had not. Could it be that Shan Pu and Khu Lon had gotten in over their heads?  
  
Tso Pu knew well enough that three thousand years of Amazon history did not guarantee victory, or even a prosperous future. Jumping, she led the other two girls over an unsteady rocky patch blocking the path, and down a steeper incline and rolled down and into the midst of Jyusenkyou. The place had a swampy feel to it, but the lack of flies or even birds gave it an ominous, unnatural touch. Something caught on the wind made her skin crawl, but her danger sense never activated, which was some small relief.  
  
"Jyusenkyou," she said, softly. The Forbidden Valley lay before them. A hundred springs, at least, stretched out awaiting their prey, like so many tiger traps from which there was no escape.   
  
"I don't like it here." Plun looked around, nervousness etched on her features. "There's an ill wind blowing."  
  
"Relax. You have to actually end up in one of the springs to be cursed. It's not like they can reach out and get you." Tso leaned over, and looked into the nearest spring. The water was clear... and almost inviting.  
  
The three girls milled about the area, and gradually the danger of the place started to be replaced by wonder. How many of these springs were cursed already, and how many waiting for their turn? Where was the Legendary Spring of Drowned Girl that the Musk had created, in their hubris, sparking the Great Revolution that would eventually throw them down and 'destroy' their Dynasty and their hold on the region?  
  
"Tso! Look! I found something!"  
  
"What?" Tso leapt up, boldly, onto one of the bamboo poles planted firmly in one of the nearby springs. She didn't test her luck, however, and quickly jumped to the ground near Mir Ru.   
  
"Look," she repeated from her crouched position, and pointed to a bruised patch of grass.  
  
"Footprints." Tso nodded, confirming what the other girl didn't even have to say.   
  
"Musk. It has to be." Mir stood up, her hand resting on the sword hung at her waist.  
  
"Musk?" Plun leapt over, her voice eager. "Where?"  
  
"Just some footprints. They look fresh." Tso drew out her Qiang spear.  
  
"You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"  
  
"You bet I am!" Tso's eyes followed the tracks to a scrub area, leading away from this Jyusenkyou, and around, possibly to another path. The footprints were fairly heavy, and no attempt had been made to conceal them. It was be child's play to follow them to wherever this person had been headed.  
  
"This isn't a good idea," Mir started.  
  
"Come on, you two. We're the best out here, and it's only one Musk. You can't say you've never wanted to actually fight one of them." Tao have them a quick smile, and they seemed to silently agree. Really, Tso had been lying. Plun Gu wasn't particularly intelligent, and Mir Ru had no stamina in prolonged fights. They were good enough with their respective weapons, a steel mace and a double-edged sword, respectively, but neither of them were really dedicated to fighting, or even the defense of the village and their people.   
  
They were slackers.  
  
Most people were, it seemed. Still, if they knew she really thought little of them, they wouldn't follow her. Tso Pu had quickly learnt that people followed a leader with greater loyalty and conviction if they believed they were needed, and important... even invaluable. Leadership was driven by example, and fueled by devotion and respect. Physical strength, which useful and sometimes indispensable, was not a true prerequisite. So Plun Gu and Mir Ru followed her as she tracked their target. It quickly became obvious that the Musk had been walking around Jyusenkyou, looking for another trail to get to that would lead out of the valley.   
  
"What do we do when we find this guy?" Mir was sounding bolder, now, that they were committed to this as a group.  
  
"Fight him," Tso answered, plainly.  
  
"But how?"  
  
"It'll depend. We'll think of something when we find him."  
  
"Awfully confident aren't you?" Plun 'hmfed' but didn't seem to be complaining.  
  
"No more so than others." Tso shrugged, and held out a hand, stopping the other two girls behind her. "Hold up a second."  
  
"What? What's wrong?"  
  
"The tracks. They end right here." Tso slowly looked up, and realized they'd walked into an area of high trees. "Nobody move. He's here."  
  
"Where?" Mir's blade was already drawn, but her hand was shaking slightly. "I don't see anything!"  
  
"You three are awfully far from home, aren't you?" The tone wasn't mocking, but it wasn't friendly either. From above, something fast and white fell, landing behind them without a sound. Without even thinking, Mir lunged, but was met by a swirl of cloth as she connected only with the tree behind her target, imbedding the sword several inches into it. Then, Tso and Plun saw a face amid the white robes, and a trail of long black hair.  
  
"Mu Tzu?" Tso couldn't believe it - what was he doing here? He had followed Shan Pu to Japan months ago!  
  
"Idiot male!" Plun growled. She was, as always, quick to anger. She had been scared, and obviously, too. To have been psyched out by a male Amazon was an insult, and an embarrassment to her sisters. So she lashed out, and punched Mousse square in the face. He took it, as any Joketsuzoku male would, and brushed the entire thing off moments afterward. He hadn't even flinched - impressive given the bulky Plun's raw strength.  
  
"I guess I deserved that." He frowned, and his mocking voice came back in full force. Plun Gu fumed, and looked about to try and wail on him again when Tso intervened. Mu Tzu had always had a knack for pissing people off. He wouldn't like it, her sticking up for him, but someone had to before he was forced to defend himself, as everyone knew he could but chose not to.  
  
Odd ideas Mu Tzu had somehow gotten into his thick head.  
  
"What are you doing here, Mu?" Tso gave Plun a hard look, and the other girl backed away. Mir was still getting her sword free from the tree.  
  
"What are YOU doing here? Jyusenkyou isn't exactly a safe place to visit." Mousse tucked his hands into his sleeves, and Tso noticed that he was keeping his glasses on. He usually took them off around other people. "No matter who you're with."  
  
"We were looking for Musk." Plun sneered, and interrupted them. "Looks like we only found a small fry. To small - we'll have to throw it back, isn't that right Moo?"  
  
Mousse didn't even seem to have heard the comment, and ignored her. "Never mind... I really don't care. I was on my way around the valley, to see the Guide. He was with someone before, and I wanted to... hear the whole story and find out what the hell's going on around here."  
  
Mir and Plun exchanged glances, and Mousse smiled.  
  
"We were just heading back to the village," Tso quickly replied.  
  
"Oh?" Mousse's smile faded. It became somewhat obvious he was hiding something, or several things, and taking full advantage of finding them traveling where they were forbidden to go. "Good. I'll go with you and meet up with the Guide later."  
  
His eyes said the rest. No one needed to know that any of them, himself included, had visited Jyusenkyou. In silent agreement, they headed around and back home.  
  
Such as it was.  
  
Joketsuzoku. 


	3. Learning Curve part 18

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XVIII (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
"Look at these people, Mint. I can hardly believe Lord Herb would sup with these half-Musk."  
  
"That's not very nice, Lime." Mint crossed his arms, but didn't feel like directly contradicting his friend and partner. Lime was his elder by a few years, and had vouched for him when an older boy, Basil, had challenged his standing as Imperial Bodyguard. The Tiger-Blood warrior was nothing if not loyal to those he knew.  
  
"It's not supposed to be very nice." Lime snorted in disdain.  
  
"They're not Blood-Musk, but they are our cousins... they're still family."  
  
"Backwater family," Lime growled, and bowed curtly as one of the subjects in question approached and passed by on his way to the banquet hall. Lime was silent far more often than not, but when he spoke and expressed his thoughts, right or wrong, he was as intractable and immovable as he was physically. Mint knew mere words, or probably even actions, would never change Lime's engrained view of the world.   
  
"That was Prince Toma, right?"  
  
Lime grunted.  
  
"He looks like an all right guy." It was nice to see another high-ranking warrior Mint's age, but the younger Musk kept that to himself. Mint also kept an appraising eye on Toma's two guards. The first was a large man, a good deal larger even than Lime. His eyes seemed somewhat vacant, and oblivious of his surroundings - odd traits in a bodyguard. He sported some fairly heavy looking mundane armor, and it was obvious he was Toma's display of Togenkyo muscle. The second of the two was a thin man, sporting a red and black mask over his face, and a crop of feathers from behind his turban. He moved with a sort of wary grace, as if naturally on edge. He turned, slightly, noticing Mint's interest, and the younger boy looked away quickly.  
  
The two walked on, following Toma, who quickly engaged in conversation with a vivacious and mysterious young woman named Lychee, who had arrived earlier, on the heels of Prince Kirin's representatives. It was the three from Togenkyo that Mint paid the closest immediate attention to. The Island was once a colony of the Musk, centuries ago, built on a Cursed Spring, one of the oldest, if what Mint had learned was true. They still carried on many Musk traditions, though their practice of directly turning animals into men, and marrying them to normal women was somewhat of a reverse of what the Musk Traditions demanded.  
  
Lime saw it as a corruption of the Musk way, but Mint understood that their traditions had been forced to change and adapt to a different environment after the collapse of the Eighth Dragon Dynasty so long ago. The animal traits that gave all Musk their more than human attributes, to varying degrees, all fade over time. They are always strongest in the first generation, and slowly start to dilute with the introduction of ever more human blood. Tradition dictated that the bloodlines needed to be strengthened every ten generations. Needless to say, Musk genealogies were well kept, and public knowledge. Mint, himself, and his brother, were both three generations removed from their last animal-mother.  
  
Lime was two.  
  
It explained more than a few things, really, when it came to Lime. Most living Musk were actually five or more generations removed, while Herb... well, the Dragon Dynasty was something in and of itself. But the Togenkyo sect of the Musk had adapted by allowing animal-fathers every few generations, and, he'd heard, by breeding like rabbits.   
  
Still, 'backwater' was a cruel term.  
  
Adjusting his feet slightly, and more than a little uncomfortable in his formal and inflexible attire, Mint found his mind and eyes wandering the room. He thought back to yesterday, just after Sumac's match. Mint's brother was handling things well enough - Sumac was nothing if not a perfectionist and a show off, and had finished toying with his opponent, when Herb had given that strange order, in Japanese, for Sumac to finish the match with a killing blow. It had only been an exhibition fight, not really serious, but still Sumac had been ready to follow through with the order, when that... woman had jumped in.  
  
Herb seemed happy that she had, but when he walked up to her, she punched him.  
  
Why?  
  
Mint hadn't even seen a woman until recently, when he had officially come of age, and they were still strange creatures. Oh, he knew OF them, obviously, and what they did for the Musk, birthing the next generation of warriors, but he had never seen one up close until just a few days prior. Women were kept in the Female Quarter of Sach Khandu, far from the Barracks, the Training Halls, or any of the other areas where the males came and went. Mated Musk, when they wanted to, simply visited them in the Female Quarter, did their business, and came back. Contact was minimized, even then, and before the actual mating interview, totally forbidden.  
  
Mint had seen a picture of a woman before he saw the girl that hit his Prince. It was different in real life. It had been hard to see that girl's breasts, because of her clothes, but he had been trying to get a mental picture of them, and consequently had failed to defend his Lord. Herb hadn't minded, really... or he didn't seem angry with either him or Lime, after he had ordered the woman taken to her room, and sulked around for a while. Mint suspected that Lord Herb, despite being much older, didn't know much more about females than he or Lime did.  
  
Of course, he would never actually say that out loud.  
  
Regardless, Mint found himself, suddenly, thrown into a room with more than a few obvious females, one of the prime examples of which came from the nearby Princedom of Nekonron. On the far side of the room, standing next to her bearded consort, Bishamonten, who Mint had seen a few times before, was the beautiful Monlon. Her fingers moved lovingly over her lute's strings, and Mint's keen ears could appreciate the soft music she was making for the small group of men and women that had gathered around them.  
  
The other, closer, example was a woman named Lychee. Dressed in a long gown, matching the color of her wave of hair, Mint couldn't help but admire her... feminine features. They were just there, and impossible to ignore. Let Lime say what he wanted about Prince Toma's bloodline, it took a great deal of self control, or possibly desensitization, to carry on a conversation with that woman without staring at ...them.  
  
"That's a nice set of breasts, she's got there," Lime said, breaking the silence between them.  
  
"Huh?" Mint blinked a few times. "Who?"  
  
"That female in the dress-thing." Lime scratched his head, and cracked his neck. "Hey, when is Lord Herb going to show up? I want to move around."  
  
"No idea." Mint sighed, and went back to staring. A bit of curiosity came, and he focused his hearing, trying to pick up some of the conversation.  
  
"I simply don't see the concern. Why should we get involved in a mainland concern like Saffron?" Toma took a long sip from his glass. "It may sound callous, but my business is the future of Togenkyo, first and foremost."  
  
"Kirin's people say the same thing, of course... and yet they are far closer to the problem than some." Lychee's voice was melodious, and teasing.   
  
Or perhaps testing.  
  
"The Dragon and the Phoenix... we distanced ourselves from that dance a century ago. I am not eager to return to it. And then there's the logistics of moving a small army, through totalitarian China, without drawing attention... no, Herb will have to stand alone here, or not at all."  
  
"A pity then. The Society, of course, will offer what aid it can to keep trouble from spreading, but I do hope Prince Herb isn't too disappointed. Our business is the study and care taking of Jyusenkyou... we simply cannot afford a confrontation with the Phoenix people, or their allies in the Joketsuzoku."  
  
"Oh?" Toma chuckled. "I've heard much of the ability of the Muscle Sword and Wind Sword Clans under your influence..."  
  
"A small group maintained for self defense." Lychee leaned in, conspiratorially. "We work and live in a dangerous area. It helps to have powerful friends, Prince Toma."  
  
***  
  
"What is wrong with you, woman?" The Lord of the Musk didn't yell, but his voice was far from its normal emotionless conceit.  
  
"You have to ask? I'm a prisoner here... did you honestly expect me to simply stand there and accept it?"  
  
Herb snarled, fists balled, frustration burning in his chiseled features. "I don't know what's wrong with you! I beat that man you were with...!"  
  
"And that's another thing!" Ukyou didn't have her weapons, but she had her fists and feet, if it came to that. Brandishing the former, she would easily have been enough to make most men tremble in fear. "What were you doing attacking poor Mousse like that?!"  
  
"He was in the way. He was in MY way." Herb didn't even blink at the angry woman's display. "And he was an Amazon. I hate Amazons."  
  
"Yeah, that's real reasonable." Ukyou rolled her eyes. "So why am I still here? I'm no Amazon!"  
  
"No... you're here because I... I, er..." Herb backed off a bit, and looked away from her. "You're here because..."  
  
"Because?"  
  
"Because I want you." He said, quickly. Too quickly, perhaps - Ukyou quickly raised her fists and got into a fighter's stance.  
  
"Yeah, well, don't think I'll make it easy for you!"  
  
"No! Not like that!" Herb's hands came up, defensively. "Well, maybe eventually... I mean: I want you to be with me."  
  
"Just what the hell are you talking about?"  
  
He tilted his head to one side as he looked down at her, amusement spreading across his face, and added, "I like you."  
  
"You're kidding?" Nothing in her voice appeared derisive, just suspicious. "But we literally just met five minutes ago. How can anyone 'like' someone so quickly?"   
  
"Musk males get very serious very quickly once they decide they're interested in someone," herb told her, frankly.  
  
One corner of Ukyou's mouth twisted.   
  
"I'm not in the mood to be anyone's 'mate' at the moment."   
  
"I wasn't either, until I saw you. I'm..." He shook his head. "You already know that. I was on my way to Jyusenkyou to get ready to understand women, so that I could conduct interviews to find a worthy mate."  
  
"The monkey?" Ukyou's hands lowered, slightly.  
  
"Yes... the Guide picked it out, so that I could dunk it and... er... get more comfortable seeing the female body... so as not to make a fool of myself. When I saw you, though, I was struck, like an arrow. I saw the Amazon, and defeated him, and then you, to prove my strength and see if you were a powerful warrior or not. I was impressed... and I'm not easily impressed, so I brought you back with me to make you my mate."  
  
"Well, you'll have to find someone else!" Ukyou crossed her arms, stubborn streak in full force. "I've got things to do, places to see... a life to live. And it starts with me getting out of here, finding my friend, and leaving this... this primitive hole in the ground as far behind me as possible."  
  
"Easier said than done." Herb smiled, dangerously. He pointed to the closet in her room. "Pick something from the selection there. I'm hosting a very important reception, and I want to show you off and impress others."  
  
"Why you...!" Ukyou flustered. "What do you think I am?"  
  
"A female." Herb's brows lowered. "And a very comely specimen at that. Play along. You're more likely to be... let loose if you get on my good graces."  
  
There was a strange flicker in her eyes, before she sharply answered. "Fine."   
  
Herb exhaled, hard, through his nose, pivoted and stalked several feet away, stopping with his back to her. He heard her breathing in frustrated little gasps that slowed as she brought her temper under control, before leaving and closing the door behind him. He was tempted to post a guard, but decided to stand and wait for her personally. Whether she came out dressed, or simply tried to escape, he wanted to be the one that caught her and see the look on her face.   
  
She was a stubborn, crude creature - nothing like he had been led to expect. The Musk mated with other warriors, but this one, she was like... like something else entirely. She was violent, headstrong, independent and seemingly unwilling to be dominated. Maybe it was the challenge that excited him, or the vision of her standing at someone else's side, regardless, she was a conquest he was determined to make.   
  
He did, after all, have Seventeen Imperial Generations of Musk History to uphold.  
  
Holding out his palm, Herb slowly channeled a small amount of carefully controlled Ki into it. When he was a child, and his power had started to manifest, it burned. The human body really wasn't the best conductor of Ki, really. It needed to be trained to accept it in large amounts, or else it quite literally burned out, searing the nerves and muscle beyond repair. His dragon blood allowed Herb a greater measure of control and knowledge, but really, he hadn't been born with more Ki than any semi-normal Musk warrior, he just knew how to use it best. The fact that he'd trained for years on end, with the most learned and experienced of warriors, and studied Ki for years without pause hadn't hurt either.  
  
As the tiny energy sphere crackled to life in his hand, Herb stared deeply into the little Ki-flame he'd given birth to. It expanded and contracted, slowly, with his breathing and moved very slightly to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Some saw the Dragon Prince as akin to a god, something closer to the immortal monster Saffron than a human being. Herb let some believe that, those that should fear his power, and educated those that were his allies, and needed to know that he, too, was mortal. Mortal enough to die, in the flames...  
  
Closing his hand into a fist, he reabsorbed the Ki - a difficult thing, really, far more difficult than releasing it. It was, he supposed, like firing an arrow or a firearm. Once unleashed, Ki did not want to be drawn back, or recalled. It was like a living thing, born in a singular purpose, and driven to complete that purpose, regardless of any change of heart between then and now. Herb was distracted, but his attention instantly shifted when he heard the door open.  
  
And then shifted again.  
  
"Excuse me," Ukyou tried, softly.  
  
"..."  
  
"Um... excuse me?" She tried again, not so softly.  
  
"..."  
  
"Well then... excuse YOU!"  
  
"OW!" Herb clutched his midsection, and looked up, eyes narrow. "What was that for?"  
  
"You were staring at my breasts, you jackass!!"  
  
"So? That's what they're for, right?"  
  
Ukyou sweat dropped, and was about to say something when she caught him at it again. Deciding that physical violence wasn't working particularly well of late, she grabbed his chin, and forcibly lifted his face to somewhat eye level, given that he was more than a little taller than her. Taking a deep breath, which unfortunately caused his eyes to wander, again, she repeated the process, and cut him off with a firm voice.  
  
"Listen," she started, voice stern. "You are not supposed to look at a lady's breasts... do you follow me?"  
  
"But..." He frowned, obviously displeased by this revelation. "Why do you have them then?"  
  
"They're for... they're for..." Ukyou blushed. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about right now.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"They're for... you know. Biologically..."  
  
"I follow you. But why do they stick out, if not to attract attention to themselves?"  
  
"Okay." Ukyou gave up, on that point. "Yes, they are to ...attract attention. But you're not supposed to stare at them. You're supposed to... you know, look at them discretely."  
  
"Discretely?" Herb considered that. "How so?"  
  
"Like, when I can't tell that you're looking. That's when you look. ...But only if you're a pervert."  
  
"Per Vert? What... are you talking about?"  
  
"What I just said. A pervert does that."  
  
"They look when you can't tell that they're looking?" Herb repeated, slowly.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"And if they look and you know they're looking?"  
  
"Also a pervert."  
  
"Is... is that a term of endearment?"  
  
"No! A pervert is a bad thing!"  
  
"So looking at breasts makes you... bad?"  
  
"Um... well... kinda." Ukyou groaned, trying to think things over and present them in a way that made the most sense. "Here's how it works. I have breasts."  
  
"You certainly do." Herb smiled, and Ukyou had to grab his face again.  
  
"I have them, and yes, they are there to attract attention," she repeated, starting to lose her cool. "But a gentleman isn't supposed to look at them, because he knows they're there. Maybe he looks once, very quickly, then never again."  
  
"Never?"  
  
"Well... unless she wants them to."  
  
"Who to?"  
  
"Them! He! Argh!!" Ukyou clapped her hands together. "Only look at them when you have permission to look at them. Otherwise, try and ignore them."  
  
"I see." Herb quirked an eyebrow. "So why are you putting them on display, if someone had to ask permission to see them first?"  
  
"To save time," she answered, perhaps too quickly. Ukyou knew how she looked. She was wearing a fairly low cut light blue gown - it had looked too good to pass up, and if nothing else, she might be able to charm her way out of things. Apparently not, but that last comment had sort have worked. Herb really couldn't think of anything to say in response to it, and there was silence.   
  
For all of five seconds.  
  
"Can I see them now?"  
  
"What kind of a Prince ARE you?!"  
  
***  
  
"Those..."  
  
"Those are some very nice titties." Mint cut his partner off and gave Herb's woman a quick victory sign when they passed by on their way to the Main Hall and got smacked upside the head for his trouble. Rubbing where he'd been so cruelly hit, Mint grumbled something softly and followed a few feet behind Lord Herb. The two mingled, and when Herb and his woman went separate ways, the Dragon Prince motioned silently for Mint to switch to guarding her instead of him.  
  
The Wolf-Musk thought about protesting. It was, in a way, insulting, having to play bodyguard to this female... but, on another hand, maybe it was a sign of trust his liege had in him. Really, Herb did not need guarding - he was by far the most powerful individual in the room, so maybe being assigned to watch over this woman was a greater responsibility.   
  
A better responsibility.  
  
Mint opted to see it that way, and kept near her at a discrete distance. He also tried to keep from staring at her breasts. Brushing past one of the guests, he was surprised when an arm reached out and stopped him. Turning quickly, he saw the man's face and relaxed.  
  
"Hey." Sumac gave his brother a quick smile. "Following Herb's bitch, huh?"  
  
Mint glowered. His brother could be crueler than Lime sometimes.  
  
"Ah, I was just mixing words." Sumac brushed it off, and offered in silent apology. Mint nodded. His brother was a good person deep down; he just tended not to think before he said things. Or he thought about it, and just didn't care what others thought, making him come off disrespectful and rude. It was one of the reasons why, even though Sumac was an excellent warrior, one of the best, he hadn't been given a position in Herb's Court, or a high rank in the Musk Kinship.   
  
"When did you get here?" Mint kept an eye on Ukyou, who seemed to be listening intently to Monlon's playing.  
  
"I snuck my way in while Herb and his woman were making their gala entrance." Sumac's voice didn't hold any sarcasm, though Mint knew it was there. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning and thought I'd get some good food before I headed out."  
  
"Is that the only reason?"  
  
Sumac tilted his head in thought, before shrugging. "Not really. I wanted to talk to some people... and hear Herb's big speech. It'll be amusing to see him try and convince these soft outsiders to try and help in the battle with the Phoenix."  
  
"Amusing isn't the word I'd have used." Mint adjusted his fox-cap self-consciously. "What do you think of all this?"  
  
"What do you mean 'all this?'"  
  
"These people. This is the first gathering I've been to where... you know... there were females."  
  
"Eh." Sumac shrugged. "You get used to them after a while. I saw my first woman when I was your age..."  
  
"Yes, the infamous Joketsuzoku that you took down, we've all heard it before." Mint motioned with his hands, as if portraying the image of a giant. "Seven feet tall... arms like a man's torso, blazing red hair, and enough cleavage to get lost in and never find your way out. Bled a small river... Oooo!"  
  
"Little brat!" Sumac tousled his brother's hair, and watched him squirm to get away. It was so much fun embarrassing the little guy.  
  
"Go on and do your stuff." Mint started to fastidiously comb over his hair with his hand, as if fixing a work of art. "I've got to keep an eye on Herb's woman."  
  
His brother nodded and started to walk away, but paused and spoke over his shoulder, "Just don't look too closely, little Mint. Females are not something to get mixed up with at your age."  
  
"I know what I'm doing," Mint lied, and Sumac gave a quick laugh before walking off. Walking a bit closer, perhaps emboldened by his own words, he tried to both fit in, and mentally separate himself from what was going on. It wasn't a situation he was used to, or really prepared for. As he started to feel comfortable, and inconspicuous, Monlon stopped playing, finishing her performance with a soft trailing note.  
  
"That was beautiful," Ukyou spoke up, first... boldly, in a way.  
  
Monlon considered her for a moment, before answering simply enough. "Thank you. Miss...?"  
  
"Kounji Ukyou. From Kyoto, Japan." Ukyou gave a small bow.  
  
The older man standing next to Monlon spoke first, "Bishamonten. Of the Seven Lucky Gods Martial Arts Clan, Nekonron."  
  
"Monlon." The woman followed his example. "Of the Seven Lucky Gods Clan, Nekonron."  
  
"Shichi Fukudoujin?" Ukyou seemed incredulous. "I thought the Seven Lucky Gods were just a legend."  
  
"Many things thought to be legend are, in fact, quite mundane." Monlon plucked softly at her biwa lute. She had an imperious tone, but not condescending. "You're a long way from Kyoto, Kounji Ukyou."  
  
"Yeah. I was visiting Jyusenkyou with a friend of mine when this jackass knocks him out and drags me off like some caveman Neanderthal!" She didn't sound happy, naturally. "You can probably guess who that was."  
  
"Not really." Bishamonten inclined his head. "That could be the work of almost anyone in this part of the world."  
  
"Well it wasn't just anyone," Ukyou said, faintly, and trailed off. "Anyway, what brought you two out here?"  
  
"Nekonron is close by. We were invited to attend in lieu of Prince Kirin." Monlon smiled. "Our dealings with the Musk Dynasty go back many years, as does our alliance against the Phoenix god Saffron, which will, no doubt, be the subject of the day's discussions."  
  
"What is this Saffron thing, anyway?"  
  
"Saffron is a being of fire and flesh, nurtured and risen by the people of Phoenix Mountain. His last incarnation was... less than benevolent." Bishamonten frowned. "Two Lucky Gods were lost to his fire and rage, as well as innumerable servants, and many others not of our Clan. Many Musk died before Saffron was defeated."  
  
Ukyou suddenly thought of something. "And Joketsuzoku?"  
  
"They... chose not to get totally involved." The bearded Lucky God twirled the trident-spear in his right palm.  
  
"Is that why Herb dislikes them?"  
  
"I do not know, Miss Kounji." He became silent after that, as if remembering something in the past.  
  
"It was a long time ago," Monlon cautioned. "And things are not always so simple and straightforward."  
  
***  
  
  
  
Ryouga was lost.  
  
Not physically, but mentally. His body was walking, following those he trusted explicitly not to lead him awry, but his mind was on other things. A great many things, but a few most specifically - and they worried him. Looking to the side, he watched Ranma walk, next to Akane, one hand in hers in an open display of affection, at least for the moment. The two had alternated arguing and silently enjoying each other's company on the short train ride back to Tokyo.  
  
What worried the lost boy was the feeling in his belly, from deep down. There was a missing fire, an always-present dislike for the pigtailed boy that seemed to be smoldering. It was a comforting feeling, his hatred for Saotome Ranma, after so long. A complex mixture of jealousy, rage, betrayal, pity, respect and admiration, it was as much a part of who he was, and who he had become, as his bandanna, or his combat umbrella, or his martial arts. But now, it was dwindling, and it was as if a hole was forming, an empty void only momentarily filled by his anger and hatred towards Taro.  
  
Taro who he had killed, buried under tons of rock.  
  
Taro who, like only Ranma before him, Ryouga had, at the very least, fought and tried to kill... wanted to kill. Ryouga had often thought long and hard about his actions in the last fight he had had with Ranma, and how, indeed, he had tried to kill the object of his anger. Fortunately, he hadn't succeeded, and Ranma had survived every lethal attack thrown his way. But Taro, 'Pantyhose Taro,' Nabiki had revealed his full name, and the source of his ire, had brought back that frenzy and that urge to feel pain under his fist, to hear the breaking of bone and find release in the crushing of an opponent.  
  
A year ago, the thought would have fortified him.  
  
Now, it scared him.   
  
Was he some kind of natural born killer? Ryouga had accused Ranma of a great many things, most of them accurately the other boy's fault, but Ranma was no murderer. Ranma was, despite Ryouga's attempts at 'destroying his happiness' and even ending his life, a happy person, if not a very healthy individual. And he was willing to forgive. That was the most amazing thing. Would Ryouga have ever let the feud go, if Ranma had seriously tried to kill him?  
  
Certainly, Ryouga could try to forgive, but his nature would never let him forget any injustice done against him. He remembered every face, every word, every slight and every insult in crystal clarity, and those memories haunted him every time he closed his eyes. It was another thing to envy in the Saotome boy: his ability to move on with his life. The lost boy resolved himself - he had never truly forgiven Ranma for what had been done in the past, and while he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried, he would forgive him. He would move on.  
  
Even if it was difficult.  
  
Even if it left a hollow pit in him a mile deep.  
  
It was morning, already, and the sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. He felt soft hair brush against his cheek, and realized that Nabiki was starting to stir in his arms. Both Tendo girls had fallen asleep in the train on the way home, but while Ranma had opted to wake Akane up, Ryouga preferred to let Nabiki sleep. She barely weighted anything compared to the rest of the stuff he had with him, anyway, so it wasn't really a hindrance.   
  
She was so beautiful. And unhurt.   
  
At the very thought, the rage came and swiftly dissipated. Taro was either dead or dying. Unless he knew the Bakusai Tenketsu, or something similar, there was no way out of that landslide he had been caught in, even in his powerful monster form. A small voice reminded him then that he had known that back then, as well as he did now, and still hadn't turned to try and get him out. Maybe it was the look of panic in Nabiki's eyes, or the bruise on Akane's face... in that moment, he had done nothing. He had wanted death. He had wanted to call down punishment of the most terrible and final variety.  
  
There was an innate darkness to him that Nabiki knew of, but probably didn't truly grasp. It was something maybe only Ukyou and Shampoo had any sort of glimpse of, or relation to. To his left, he saw Shampoo walking, by herself, apparently in thought. Slowing a bit, and distancing himself from Ranma and Akane somewhat, he gently nudged the Chinese girl, getting her attention.  
  
"Shampoo." He gave her a friendly smile. "How are ya holding up?"  
  
"Shampoo feel like smashed by big truck." She pointed to a long set of shallow scrapes on her left arm. "How Lost Boy doing?"  
  
"I'm alive, Chinese Girl," he continued, in a lower voice. "I might not have been around at all if not for you, though. You really saved my ass back there."  
  
"Is what friends are for, no?"  
  
"You bet." He blinked a few times. "Are you ...crying?"  
  
"Amazon womans no cry!" Shampoo quickly regretted saying it, and calmed somewhat. "Is just very late... early. Eyes get dry."  
  
"Oh." Ryouga grinned with a sudden vacantness, or simply a lack of understanding. "It is late. Or early. Depending on how you look at it."  
  
"Lost Boy go ahead with Airen and Tendo Kitchen Monster. Shampoo head back to Nekohanten," she spoke dryly, and backed off a few feet before waving a hand and turning around.  
  
"Okay. See ya." Ryouga watched her go, and couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something. After a moment, he chalked it down to the weirdness of Ukyou and Mousse being gone for so long.  
  
Which was another thing.  
  
They'd left well over a week and a half ago, and he hadn't heard one word from them. Almost certainly they'd have found Jyusenkyou by now, given that Mousse had grown up in that region, and knew it like the back of his hand (actually a disquieting notion, considering Mousse didn't really know the back of his hand that well at all). Still, Ryouga envied them, in more than a few ways. He still felt the pull of his heart to wander, if only for a little time. A training trip to the mountains was sounding better every passing day, but he knew better than to make it appear spontaneous. A better excuse would be training to 'sharpen his skills' which wasn't really a lie, because that was the point of any training trip, but more importantly he needed to clear his mind.   
  
He'd just omit mentioning that last part.  
  
Nabiki wouldn't want to hear it, and he didn't really want to upset her or make her think that he was starting to feel tied down. Or that how that fact made him feel equal parts frightened and wonderful. No, he'd leave in a few days, after telling everyone beforehand. Soun would wish him luck, Kasumi would pack some snacks for his trip, Ranma would make a few snide remarks about him getting lost for half a year again, and Akane would hit him with something. Unfortunately, Ryouga couldn't really predict how Nabiki would act. Feigned indifference was most likely, and she could be very difficult to read at times.  
  
"No matter." He steeled himself mentally. It was something that needed to be done. Everything branching from it was conditional and secondary.   
  
"Come on, P-chan!" Ranma suddenly called out, over his shoulder. "We're almost home!"  
  
"What the hell did you call me?" Ryouga growled back, but kept his voice low, so as not to wake the woman in his arms. Ranma broke into a run, and Akane and Ryouga were quick to follow, the former because she was excited to be back home, and the latter because he didn't want to lose sight of either of them and get lost. That would be exceedingly bad timing, given the circumstances.  
  
They came to a halt in front of the main gates to the Tendo property. The air was a bit misty, but not unpleasant, and not enough to trigger anyone's Jyusenkyou curses. Which reminded him...  
  
"Hey, Ranma..." Ryouga wasn't in the mood for any verbal sparring. "Check the mail. Tell me if my new issue of 'Modern Jyusenkyou' came in."  
  
"Huh?" Ranma's eyes widened. "Oh, you mean the Jyusenkyou Products Catalogue?"  
  
"None other." Ryouga licked his lips in anticipation. "I want to place my order for some of their new Waterproof Soaps early."  
  
That way, they should arrive around when I get back from my little soon-to-be-announced 'training trip,' he left unsaid. Ranma rummaged around in the mailbox, but came out without anything of consequence. Ranma looked at the cover of one of the pieces of mail and 'eeped.'  
  
"What?" Ryouga leaned over, to get a better look. "Challenge Letter? Dojo Destroyer?"  
  
"Worse. Heating bill. No Catalogue, though." Ranma shrugged and followed Akane into the yard after she unlocked the door. Ryouga wasn't far behind.  
  
"Ah... home sweet home!" Akane slowly opened the door and stepped inside, sliding off her shoes.   
  
"Akane, is that you?" A voice came from the kitchen - it seemed that Kasumi was up early. ...Even earlier than normal.  
  
"Yep! I'm home!" She answered back, following the voice. Ryouga managed to navigate into the living room, and gently laid Nabiki down on the couch. Sighing, and leaning back on the small corner he kept for himself, he just managed to catch something... someone... out of the corner of his right eye. Pivoting and looking up, he gulped.  
  
"Hello again, Hibiki-san." Natsume stood behind the couch, arms crossed.  
  
Bad timing indeed.  
  
***  
  
"At last. My training is complete. Soon... the vile sorcerer will tremble at my feet..."  
  
Nerima was an odd place for pets of any variety. It got spontaneously wet, seemingly at random, and it was full of weird people. An example, both of the weirdness, and of the pets in the area, was one 'Mr. Green Turtle.' Now, Mr. Green Turtle was green, indeed, but he was no turtle. Mr. Green Turtle, or Midorigame, was actually an Australian Saltwater Crocodile, 'Crocodylus porosus.' A species of crocodilians commonly found many, many miles to the south, in the northern parts of Australia and the warmer parts of Southeast Asia. Obviously, he wasn't most people's first choice in pet.  
  
"Oh hohohohoho!!"  
  
Now, the Saltwater Crocodile has a great many names associated with it. 'Saltie', Indo-Pacific Crocodile, Singapore 'small grain' Crocodile, Baya, Buaja, Buaya maura, Gator, Gatta Kimbula, Gorekeya, Kone huala, Jara Kaenumken, Pita Gatteya, Pukpuk... Rawing crocodile, Semmukhan Muthlelei, Sea-going crocodile, Subwater crocodile, Man-eating crocodile... but never 'Mr. Green Turtle.' Unfortunately, Midorigame lacked the simple brainpower to understand how he got into such a strange situation.   
  
Though he was ignorant, it had begun many years ago, when a young Kuno Kodachi, on a trip to Singapore with her father, brother, and mother, had seen some baby crocodiles chirping innocently in a zoo. Much screaming, whining, and ribbon tossing resulted, and a young Mr. Green Turtle had been plucked from a croc farm and shipped out to his new friend. Life had quickly become a routine matter for the humble crocodile.  
  
Try and bite the loud man-person who always ran around breaking things.  
  
Wait for the curvy creature to throw food into the water (he could always tell it was her by the annoying and loud sounds she made).  
  
Sleep.  
  
Wait for something interesting to pass by.... And bite it.  
  
It was a good, life, really. Except when it got cold. Mr. Green Turtle hated the cold. And he hated weird stuff. Unfortunate, given where his owner lived. Earlier, there had been a duck swimming in the water. He didn't recognize it, and snapped at it, and had ended up cut by lots of sharp things. How had that happened?  
  
Another time, this loud creature, similar to the one that fed him, but not quite sounding or looking the same, ended up in his pond. When it didn't look like she was going to leave his territory, he snapped at her, and tried to chase her around and maybe get a few good bites in, for good measure. Then she kicked him! It hurt a lot, and he'd ended up like that one time the man-person threw his weird tasting food in the water and Midorigame had eaten it.  
  
"Brother, dear... what IS that in the yard?"  
  
And then there had been this little black creature he tried to eat once. Midorigame shivered at the memory. This wasn't supposed to happen! The Saltwater Crocodile can grow up to 7 meters long. It has a large head and lots of pointed teeth. It is the largest living reptile. How does one end up in such situations?  
  
Still, he liked mornings, and the morning sun, and the morning feeding of tidbits, so Mr. Green Turtle surfaced and gave his Empire a quick once over. Lo and behold, he saw something drinking at the edge of the pond, greedily slurping up Midorigame's precious supply of water - literally eating his home. Instincts kicked in, and he floated towards it slowly.  
  
I am... a log.  
  
Think like a log.  
  
Move like a log.  
  
Be... the log.  
  
Sensing that he was close enough, Mr. Green Turtle hurled himself forward with much bluster and splashing, mouth wide... and then he stopped. Apparently his mouth wasn't wide enough. Just short of actually biting into his target, Midorigame had paused. As he did, the nonplussed other animal's head turned slightly, and two large eyes focused on the Crocodile.   
  
"Snort."  
  
Deciding to let the creature have the water if it wanted it so badly, Mr. Green Turtle went back into the water to sulk.  
  
"That's the second largest swine I've ever seen. Truly, it must be possessed by magics most foul..." Kuno blinked, drew his legendary bokken, and then a (similarly) legendary breath of air. "Have at thee, great pink beast, and feel the bitter taste of my mighty blade upon thy flesh, for it is from this stalwart edge that all heavenly justice must surely spring to mete out punishment to those evil of heart and dark of soul and know that the taste of defeat you shall not but savor was delivered to you at the hands of the one and only Tatewaki Kuno, Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, Rising star of the kendo world and future Olympic ALL STAR!!!"  
  
The creature just grunted.  
  
Much pain ensued.  
  
***  
  
Ukyou had come to realize that she really could have picked up some Mandarin Chinese. While a fair number of people spoke and understood Japanese, most had only a cursory knowledge of it. She was also finding she enjoyed being the center of attention, which left a guilty and angry feeling behind whenever she thought about it. There had been a nice dinner, and though she expected dancing and entertainment to follow, many of the more interesting (and fluent in Japanese) individuals had left for a guarded antechamber, Herb among them.  
  
Really, she suspected, it was her best chance yet to escape... and trek through the mountains without equipment in the vain hope of finding a village or group of people who spoke Japanese. All right, she silently admitted to herself, she was pretty well and screwed in the escaping department, even if they let her just walk out, which she doubted they would. One of Herb's personal guards, the younger one, had been following her at a small distance her entire time here.  
  
She was about to turn and talk to him, though about what she had no real idea, when she bumped into someone her height. She was an attractive woman Ukyou's age, maybe a year older, with waves of light orange hair matching her dress. For an odd reason, Ukyou felt a little on edge around her. The other girl laughed politely in a soprano voice.  
  
"You must be Kuonji Ukyou."  
  
"Um... I am." Ukyou gave a quick bow. "You're...?"  
  
"Lychee," she said, with a small mysterious smile. "Herb is making a good impression with you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Prince Toma, certainly, finds you very attractive." Lychee closed her eyes, as if in deep thought. "They've all gone off to hear Herb's proposal, in case you were wondering. I was about to head over myself."  
  
"Are we allowed?" Ukyou was surprised she had even asked such a thing. What did she care?  
  
"No. But I'm sure we can charm our way close enough to listen in." Her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Well? You come with Lychee?"  
  
After only a moment, Ukyou nodded. "Why not? It's not like they're going to kick me out of here or anything."  
  
***  
  
"How many of us remember that day?" Herb sat on his ivory throne, his brows creased in memory. "How many remember the blood and the tears of that last charge my father led? The Dragon never forgets..."  
  
"Twenty five years ago, Saffron rose from his grave in Phoenix Mountain. Not content to enslave his own savage people, he swept down into Musk lands, killing or brainwashing any who stood against him. For a time, we alone stood between the fire and all your homes. In battle after battle, we rained arrows down on the Phoenix god, and he simply plucked them out like bee stings. Hammer blows, even the edges of the finest blades... none of these could stand against him, and even the most powerful Ki attacks could only keep him at bay, unprotected as all were from his cloak of firestorms."  
  
"Our allies, our friends, the Seven Lucky Gods came to our aid, and bolstered by them, we stood one last time against Saffron. My father... memory preserve him... finally confronted the demon, personally, knowing that there would be no battles following this one, no matter which way it went. Into the cloak of flames, he charged, and locked arms with his enemy. ...Young as I was, I remember it clearly. I remember the sight of him, burning away... his Ki boiling to uncontrollable levels, and then, finally: the end. The end of both Saffron and my father, both consumed in the pyre. With their cruel master destroyed, the Phoenix savages fled into unorganized rout, and I was handed the reigns of leadership as Prince of the Last Musk Dynasty."  
  
"I call upon all of you. I call upon the Armies of our brothers in Togenkyo, and the young Prince Toma." Herb held his hand out towards where Toma sat, in between his bodyguards Toristan and Wonton.  
  
"I call on the mobile resources of Nekonron." His hand swept over to where Bishamonten sat, the Lucky God of War and Defense, cross-legged, smoking a pipe.  
  
"I call on the Jyusenkyou Society's contacts, wealth and supplies..." Herb's hand became a fist as it passed by the two male representatives of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society. "Together, we will not only prevent the rise of another Saffron, an event just on the horizon, but also prevent anything like him ever threatening us again."  
  
"Your words are well chosen." Bishamonten, exhaled deeply, smoke billowing from his mouth. "I was there, young Dragon, when we held against the Phoenix. Two Lucky Gods did not return from that battle. What, exactly, do you propose?"  
  
"A two pronged attack." Herb rubbed his hands together, eager to explain his plan of action. "First, and most important, we much strike at the heart and the source of the problem: Saffron himself."  
  
Toma interrupted, "Assault Mount Phoenix? Even I know that Fortress is impenetrable. It cannot be done."  
  
"No... impossible for a conventional army, perhaps." Herb frowned at the prospect. "However, I propose the organization of a small elite force, the finest of our warriors, myself included, to sneak in, wreak havoc, and leave with the ultimate prize - the young Saffron, himself."  
  
There was a chorus of murmurs.  
  
"A child," herb spoke up, sensing the cause of their discomfort. "Who even now plots our enslavement. The foundations and engines of evil that the Saffron of a quarter century ago built remain untouched, deep inside Phoenix Mountain, waiting to be unleashed. We either strike now, boldly and decisively, while we have the time and opportunity, or we wait for the gouts of flame and ash to fall on our heads and burn everything we have built to the ground!"  
  
"I... sense there is yet more you wish to share with us." Bishamonten looked from Herb to Toma and back.  
  
"Yes." Herb's voice turned rapidly from impassioned to cold. "There is the matter of the Joketsuzoku."  
  
"I was not aware that Amazon women played any major part in this." Toma cleared his throat. "How many enemies do you have, Prince Herb?"  
  
"The... Amazons," herb said the word slowly, with contempt. "Are allies of the Phoenix. No longer content to sit on their haunches and watch as others die to defend them from slavery, my sources reveal that they now openly ally... openly support a risen Saffron."  
  
"Ah." The young Prince Toma said nothing further.  
  
"They will have to be dealt with. And they will be... once Saffron is in our custody, and while the Phoenix warriors exhaust themselves smashing against the impenetrable defenses I have prepared for them, we shall march the bulk of our forces around the Jyusenkyou Valley, and onward towards the Joketsuzoku. We will crush them for daring to ally with the Murderers of Jusendo, and for betraying us at the Soryn Pass, and in so doing, we will put an end to three thousand years of rebellion, dishonorable raiding of Musk lands, and male oppression. Let what remains of their 'Elders' contemplate that, before they again turn against the Musk Dynasty."  
  
"The Society... will consider this proposal." One of the representatives, a tall lanky Chinese man in a suit, stood. "After council with the Assembly."  
  
Bishamonten was the next to rise, as others filed out. "If nothing else... young Dragon. You will have my halberd for this cause. After Soryn, I've no love of the Joketsuzoku, and never any for the Barbarians that ceaselessly flood from Phoenix Mountain."  
  
"My thanks, noble Bishamonten." Herb crossed his arms, and bowed deeply, in respect. The elder warrior had stood by his father, King Herb, up to that fateful charge, when at last, he had been ordered to fall back. Lastly, Prince Toma seemed to hesitate in leaving the antechamber. Silently, he motioned for his bodyguards to head out by themselves, and Herb did the same, sending Lime outside, until only the two Princes stood, alone.  
  
"I am not a fool, Prince Herb," Toma spoke in low tones. "I have not distinguished my rule, and I have indulged myself... perhaps too much. You took the Dragon Throne at the same age I took the Land of Togenkyo, even if your blood does age more slowly then mine. Know that you have my respect."  
  
"I would prefer to have your sword in the coming storm, Toma, then your respect in my home." Herb looked down at the younger Prince, but his voice held only truth.  
  
"You... may yet have both." The side of Toma's mouth crept into a half smile. "It has been a long time since I had a good fight. Longer still that it was for a good reason, much less a worthy cause."  
  
As the young man left the antechamber, he bumped past two women.  
  
One was smiling. 


	4. Learning Curve part 19

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XIX (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
12,000 BCE  
  
Dusk.  
  
The man heard the wolf's growl, and felt the tension of the animal to strike, as from the assembly of spear holders another, smaller framed, form stepped forward, in an ornate mask framed by massive animal horns, in clothes decorated with strange and enigmatic symbols. The shaman paused, as if to consider the proper course of action, before deciding on shaking his staff vigorously. When that failed, he started to chant in long, run on pseudo-words.   
  
The object of his ire frowned. It sounded like there was actually a female voice behind that mask, but the language was strange and incomprehensible, and he could not be sure. Stepping forward, he held his arms wide; lion skin cloak billowing behind him in the warm breeze blowing down from the heart of the island. He was a traveler, and a hunter, far from home. Large hands and great muscles tensed, however, in case he was not greeted civilly. They, like so many others, would not stand in the way of the Hunt.  
  
"I greet you, in the name of the All Mother," he put forward, in the northern Zul'ylli dialect, the closest he knew that these people could understand. "I am..."  
  
"We were warned of you, Dark Traveler." The shaman's fist clenched tightly on the old wooden staff, the many bird feathers imbedded in it shaking softly from the motion. "This is no place for you."  
  
"My prey is on this island. I will continue the Hunt." He tipped his head to the side, slightly, recounting the number of spear bearers, and those armed with crude bows.  
  
"You will leave here... or we will force you to leave." The shaman said, firmly.  
  
The other man's frown deepened into a well-worn scowl, heavy jaw settling into its seemingly natural position. He was never one for much negotiation, nor did he care much for those foolish enough to oppose the Hunt. Years before, maybe, there would have been hesitation, but there was none now. His lips slowly parted, and he spoke a single word.  
  
No sooner had said word left his mouth, than a great gray wolf, two hundred pounds of teeth and muscle, leapt forward, covering the distance in a heartbeat. Before the shaman could bring up any sort of defense, the animal was upon him with a horrible ferocity. His throat was in the animal's jaws, his back was on the ground, and he tasted only his own blood, not even feeling the snap of his spine as the great canid shook him like a rag doll. The party of spear wielders turned to the animal, as if to make some action against it, but only until the first two screamed and fell apart at the waist, cleaved almost cleanly in half. A greater danger - the animal's master, was already among them.  
  
The lion cloaked man spun after landing from his jump, a three-foot long obsidian blade in one hand, and the broken neck of another spearman in his left. Arrows flew, at point blank range, from those few that kept their wits about them, only to be swatted out of the air by the dead spearman's corpse, swing like a club against a small swarm of insects, striking each out of the air without failure or miss. Readying the next set of flint tipped arrows, however, averted the tribesmen's attention from another danger.  
  
Snarling, the wolf set upon them, swatting one aside with its haunches, before tearing the throat out of another, this time effortlessly and efficiently. Its master, meanwhile, continued his grim massacre, even after the warriors fled in disarray. The discipline and bravery of the cadre had simply fallen apart when faced with the speed, the power... the inhuman ability of their opponents. In the end, it looked like one would escape, having broken from the melee early on at top speed, until something gray and fast ran him down amid a rocky rubble strewn volcanic bed.   
  
Wiping the blood from his stone sword with the furred hood of one of the slain, the traveler tied his weapon back onto its place on his belt and left thigh. Features unchanged, he approached the body of the shaman, and slowly removed the antlered mask. Soft features, middle aged, greeted him - so it had been a woman.  
  
A foolish woman.  
  
Checking the far back of the neck, where the wolf's teeth had not done much damage, he saw the small black etching in the skin, what would be called a tattoo centuries in the future: that of the coiled serpent and the spear. The sight of yet another human community corrupted was one he had become all too familiar with. Scratching it off with a finger, until a bloody gash obscured any sort of mark, the warrior barked out a short prayer to the All Mother. With that done, he stood up and looked out and over to the mountain dominating the center of the small volcanic island. There was a hint of ash in the wind. He held out his left hand, silently seeking comfort, companionship, and even understanding, and found the rough fur of his tracker and his only true ally. Scratching behind her ears, the man's face softened into a small smile.  
  
"Soon." He said to the wolf, as much to assure himself as her.  
  
They began the long walk, and resumed the Hunt.  
  
"Soon, we shall have our prey."  
  
Walking purposefully through the mist shrouded beachhead and deeper inland, he felt the blood in his veins boil and surge. The power within him was just now breaking the surface and beginning to emerge. At his side, as always, Wolf whined, sensing her master's agitation. Eyes narrowed and jaw set, the man made his way up the rocky hillside, and towards the summit of the volcano. After so many years, and so much spilt blood, this was where his prey had finally settled on making a last stand.  
  
His prey was old, now. The years had not been kind to it, as he had sworn when the Hunt had began, in his youth, and it had slowly become infirm and weak as a result. But still, it was powerful. Beyond powerful. It was far more terrible years ago, when the prey, then the predator, came through the tiny village of Amaun, in the Land encircling the Sea. It had raided, and it had pillaged, for food, for All Mother idols, and most importantly, for slaves. He had seen it then, fat and spoiled and happy by centuries of devoted slavery. He had felt it in his mind, and he alone had thrown off the shackles of the prey's will to dominate.  
  
His sword sharpened on the bodies of his own people, he had begun the Hunt.  
  
The Hunt, and the promise of the Kill, had taken him to the far north, where the snow never melted, and where the Ice was as Water. In the time of years, it had taken him south, where the earth was not but stinking jungle and swamp. His youth lost, it had then taken him over the Deep Water. And, now, when he sensed that the Hunt was ending, either in his death or in his triumph, a feeling of unease and listlessness came over him. Regardless of outcome, this was the end... the culmination of his life.  
  
Pausing, he checked the scent and the tracks, and confirmed what his Wolf was already indicating. It was leading him, purposefully now, to a battleground. Moving off the hillside, and around, he warily entered a dark cave. It was a trap, and for a moment fear and inadequacy wracked him - was he ready? There was a temptation to wait, to try and draw the Prey out, yet at the same time, offer it a chance to escape... Indecision quickly gave way to focus, in the Hunt, in survival, and most importantly, on revenge. He wanted it, he wanted it so badly it burned, and he was no longer willing to wait.   
  
The prey was smart, and no doubt leading him to a place of its choosing. The cave was indeed dark, but the hunter's eyes adjusted quickly, and his other senses were more than powerful enough to compensate. Sweeping his large lion skin cloak off to the side, he advanced through the maze of high cavern walls and over jagged narrow crevasses. He was so close now, closer than he'd been in years; the sharp acid taste in his mouth was almost indescribable. It was mixture of fear, anticipation, acceptance, and closure that one only experienced once a lifetime.   
  
Wolf started to snarl as she led him into a vast chamber, the ceiling invisible in the darkness. High above, as it started to slant inwards, were strange runes, the size of men. Perhaps painted, or imbedded in the rock, at his presence they began to glow like spirit lights. It was warm, too - musky, like a tepid swamp, or some reptile's lair. The hunter snorted at the smell. It was foul, and possessed of an alien quality unable to accurately describe. Below, at his feet, and all around him, the world started to shimmer, and it took a moment for the hunter to realize what it was.  
  
The cavern was full of springs...  
  
***  
  
329 BCE  
  
Hyrcania.  
  
Artabazus stroked his beard, and considered the situation. The night was unseasonably, and unexpectedly, cold. The land of Hyrcania, that he knew intimately, was a part of the ancient Persian Empire until very recently, and nicely located on the southern shores of the Hyrcanian Ocean. The Elburz Mountains were just to the south and west, affording those in the region a comfortable, almost tropical, climate. The soil was fertile; in their time as its rulers, the Persians had considered it to be one of the special places that the supreme god Ahuramazda had created personally.   
  
Tightening his bronze bracers, he grumbled something softly to himself, and watched for their guests. The moon was already up, though it wasn't quite dark enough for the great orb to start glowing. Looking to his left, he saw his benefactor - his locks of curled hair caught slightly in the breeze. The head of the man was imperceptibly turned towards the left shoulder, and his whole body seemed to both radiate calm confidence and a sort of anticipation. Without his helmet, the light from hundreds of fires shadowed his face and prominent eyebrows.  
  
"Ah!" The man took a step forward, and smiled. "They come."  
  
To his side, several other men shifted uncomfortably. They were unarmed, except for their leader's bronze sword. Off to the side, forming a veritable wall of metal shields and long sarissa spears, reaching up past three times the height of a man, the army stood at attention, and waited. They were elite hypaspists, 'shield bearers,' and technically all the protection any of the generals could ask for.   
  
Perhaps, then, it was not really fear.  
  
No, thinking about that, Artabazus realized he wasn't afraid, but rather apprehensive, and suspected the others were, too. They were meeting with people who were neither trustworthy, nor particularly friendly, who had fought against Artabazus's leaders, both old and new. They had even dared to assume the authority to negotiate, or to bargain. Perhaps it would have been a better thing, in the long term, if they had simply been dealt with, rather than talked to, simply out of curiosity.  
  
Of course, Hercules had met them, so why not Alexander the Great?  
  
"They approach!" A runner came forward, almost short of breath, and in no way due to the run. He bowed before Alexander, before being quickly dismissed.  
  
The great leader cleared his throat, and spoke, out loud, "I do wonder if they speak Greek. It would be a terrible shame if they did not."  
  
"A terrible shame, my King." Artabazus silently hoped they only spoke Persian. If so, he'd be able to translate, and dictate some measure of the conversation. The last great Persian King, Darius, had kept one in his court in Persephone, but what they were about to see here was something else entirely.  
  
The clatter of hooves heralded their approach, and out of the hazy illumination of the many great campfires, they appeared. These that led their host were obviously warriors, bedecked in fine scale and splint armor, similar to that of Alexander's own Cataphract Cavalry. Their expressions were hard, and their eyes invisible, under the darkness of their helmets. In pairs, they dismounted, and formed an honor guard.  
  
It was the next set, however: the archers (though they wisely kept their bows strapped behind them) that drove home just who and what they were. A hundred of them, eventually, all horse mounted, lined up as the walls of Macedonian infantrymen slowly backed away to give them room, and yet just enough room that their spears could drop, and in so doing, have the visitors dashed to pieces in a single maneuver. The archer women, and they were obviously women, both from their long flowing hair, of exotic colors and shades, and from their exposed left breasts, stood behind their honor guard, until a chariot, not of Scythian or Egyptian design, moved forward and came to a stop. Three women stepped from it, and walked forward.  
  
Their leader - decked in gold dress and smelling of orange blossoms, was a tall, lithe woman, with bare arms hiding wiry and firm muscle beneath soft skin. Her high cheekbones, and bright eyes, gave her an exotic look; different than any the men had seen before. She was strikingly beautiful. She was undoubtedly Thalestris, Queen of the Amazons, hailing from the 'Kingdom' of Themiskyra, a fair distance to the northeast. Alexander had corresponded with her twice, via letters, over last year, demanding passage, recognition, and tribute. The first was refused, but the Queen had supposedly given in to the last two, and been desirous of a meeting between them.   
  
Alexander's Generals were, Artabazus knew without looking, suspicious and wary of any forward plots or schemes from these warrior women. Hundred years prior, they had, under their young Queen Penthesileia, participated in the Trojan War, on behalf of Troy and King Priam. The Amazon outposts in the area had suffered as a result of the fall of Troy, at the hands of the Greeks, and they had never again set foot in Cappadocia, instead falling back to Arminia, where repeated raids finally convinced them to retreat ever further east - in almost seven hundred years, Greek eyes had not seen the legendary Amazon women as they passed from fact to fancy.  
  
Among the Persians, Thalestris was known as a great conqueror in the eastern land of Massagetes and beyond. She was reputedly fearless of any man, decisive in battle, strong of sword arm, and comely in appearance. ...A great Virgin Queen. Artabazus crossed his arms, frowning, as the beautiful woman bowed politely to Alexander, just enough to be dignified and show respect, and yet far short of the submission required of all those who would stand before the Great Macedonian.  
  
"I am Thalestris, Queen of the Amazons, Sovereign of Themiskyra." She stood slightly taller than Alexander, but he didn't seem to show any discomfort over it.  
  
"You stand before Alexander the Third of Macedon, King of All Greece, Pharaoh of Ancient Egypt, Lord of Persia, Lord of Babylon, child of Phillip the Second, and Son of Zeus." Alexander grinned, mysteriously, and for an instant, the warrior woman balked. In naming so many titles, was he being sarcastic, contemptuous, serious...?  
  
"Your tribute." She quickly, and obviously, decided to avoid taking the chance of not taking what he had said too seriously, and skipped straight to the first, but probably least important, order of business. She waved her hand at her entourage, and four of the armored female warriors brought forward a large wooden chest of gold. Laying it before the Great, they opened it, revealing three stacks of golden plates, unmarked, but pure. It was no small amount of gold that Alexander had demanded of them, but it was a tiny pittance compared to the horde that had been taken after the sacking of the Persian capital and taken from the vast Persian treasury. It represented more the fact that they had to pay tribute to him, rather than any amount of riches he was desirous of.  
  
"It pleases me to see that your people are not so proud, or foolish, as to challenge my ...entreatments." Alexander dismissed the tribute with a gesture. He alone had been given 'permission' to enter Amazon lands, the women had steadfastly refused to let any of his explorers, representatives, or men anywhere near their lands. Still, for the moment, he was willing to overlook their stubbornness in this respect. Themiskyra was still far from his reach, presently, unless he went out of his way to subdue it, in which case Queen Thalestris had assured him that they would fight to the last woman warrior.   
  
There would, indeed, come a time when Themiskyra bowed before him, but until then, there were more important, richer, and more populous targets for expansion. Which was his second concern in this meeting. Thalestris supposedly had extensive maps of the east, maps and information that Alexander both wanted out of curiosity, out of a sense of destiny, and out of simply practicality. From what he had heard, there was far more land to the east of Persia than he had been taught and led to believe.   
  
"Great Alexander, I would ask for a personal meeting between ourselves," Thalestris spoke slowly, measuring every word. "After which, you may ask of the Amazon people would you would."  
  
"A personal meeting?" The man seemed to consider it only half heartedly, before nodding in approval. "Of what nature?"  
  
"My reasons for visiting were not purely rooted in my desire to cement a relationship between yourself and my people." She followed him as he walked, alone, past his Generals and to a large tent, from which came a soft glow. Her two servants kept behind as well, entertaining themselves in conversation with Alexander's generals, while her troops stayed as they were and at review. Pushing aside the flap of the tent, and into its lavish interior, the Macedonian King walked inside, though his eyes never left his guest.  
  
She recognized his wariness.  
  
"I have heard many things about your people, Queen Thalestris," he began, "Your history with my people has not been healthy one. Why come to me now, rather than wait for my armies to turn your way? Do you hope to find yourself in my good graces so easily?"  
  
Thalestris seemed surprised by the coldness of his voice. "What occurred in the past, occurred in the distant past. When word came that the Gordian Knot had been undone, and that a single man, leading an army out of Greece, dared to challenge the might of All Persia, I prepared myself."  
  
"You spied on me?" His voice betrayed equal measures shock, admiration, and anger.  
  
"I knew of you, and watched your progress," Thalestris clarified, "I, too, am known as somewhat of a conqueror. The life of my people is not an easy one, beset on many sides by many powerful enemies. We are... being constricted, as if by some great serpent."  
  
"And this affair concerns me, how?"  
  
"The lands far to the east are vast and hostile, even as its once great kingdom is scattered and in disarray. Even a man of your ability will not be able to subdue it easily, or... possibly in one lifetime." She rubbed her hands together, and seemed to glide over to one of the drapes of Persian finery, testing the material delicately between her fingers. "The Amazons will never again bow to a man, Alexander of Macedon. Not even you. But... they can be made to serve you, and aid you, and in so doing, aid and strengthen themselves."  
  
The man's brow furrowed in thought. "And how would I be secure in your loyalty? What do I have, save the word of an Amazon?"  
  
"That..." Thalestris reached up, to the hem of her dress, and Alexander caught sight of a flash of steel, hidden amid other, less dangerous things. "Remains to be seen!"  
  
She lunged, dagger flashing in the half-light. Alexander's blue eyes widened in surprise, then darkened drastically in rage, as his sword flashed out, and struck the weapon, knocking it aside. The King was no slouch in combat - he had been trained to fight since his youth, and he rushed into combat, leading his elite cavalry personally, not simply because it was good for morale, but because he enjoyed it. This Amazon woman would challenge him?  
  
He silently accepted.  
  
Hercules had bested many of them, in his time; surely another Son of Zeus could repeat the minor feat with but one, Queen or not. He brought his sword arm back, and Thalestris caught him at the wrist. Amazed by her strength in holding his arm at bay, and keeping the muscles from drawing it back into a position to strike, he felt the flat of her foot hook at his hamstring. Making a quick decision, he let go of his sword, twisted, and seized her wrist in his now open hand.   
  
They hit the ground at nearly the same time.   
  
A tiger strike to the sternum surprised him, and stunned the Macedonian for all of a half second, which the Amazon Queen used to break free of his partial grapple, and get back on her feet. Alexander, however, was almost on his feet himself, having tucked and rolled back, his light bronze armor flexible and well designed. He faced her, and saw her take up some form of fighting stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sword lying amid the remains of a smashed jug, water collecting on the edge.  
  
Setting himself, Alexander focused on the woman, deciding only to make a grab for the weapon if the opportunity arose. He was skilled in the art of Pankration, in truth, one of the best, and if this Amazon woman thought that disarming him of his blade was any great advantage, she was sorely mistaken. He could already feel the rising power of his pneuma, feeding into his body and mind, focusing him on this single task. Then the woman was attacking, with animal-like jabs, growing rapidly in speed and ferocity.  
  
Where, he wondered, had she learned to fight like this?  
  
She was good, regardless. Faster by a fair margin than anyone he could remember seeing or fighting personally, and incredibly strong for a female of her frame. Still, even aside from her impressive physical attributes, her fighting technique itself puzzled him. It was obviously some form of animal-mockery, he could tell, but while he had observed martial fighting styles from across the known world, he had never seen anything like what this Amazon was doing, while whittling away at his crossed arms, and toughened torso. Amending that, it did vaguely remind him of something he had seen when he was in Egypt, in the Oasis of Siwa... the Monks of Sethu...  
  
Thalestris lunged, fast as a cobra, and fingers like talons. Alexander was just as fast, however, and seeing opportunity, slipped past her attack, counterattacking with a heel kick to her left calf. The Amazon grunted from the blow, and tried to flip the man off his feet. It was a mistake. Pankration was primarily a grappling style of fighting, focusing first on getting an opponent prone or on the ground, and then taking advantage of that fact through the use of submission attacks or blows to the upper body. Her initiating a grappling maneuver with him was the worst thing she could have done.  
  
Muscles straining, he pivoted and crouched, pulling back and kneeing her in the small of the back. Without hesitation he pulled her down completely off her feet. Hooking her legs, to avoid being kicked, he pinned her down with the weight of his body and bronze scale mail armor, locking her hands above her head. She struggled for only a moment, before relaxing, and appearing to give up attempting escape.  
  
"You beat Thalestris," she said. Or maybe asked. He wasn't sure. Her Greek was starting to slur.  
  
"Of course. I am Alexander. It is my place to conquer," he replied, calmly, when her head suddenly moved. For an instant, he thought she was going to try and head butt him, but instead, her lips caught his own, ferociously. The Great Conqueror's eyes bugged out, and the Amazon forced her tongue past his slack mouth and licked over his teeth, silently thankful she didn't feel any fangs. Then, just as quickly, it was over.  
  
"What are you...?" He started, his grip on her still strong, but now his voice was obviously confused. Rose highlighting her cheeks, Thalestris licked her lips.  
  
"Is Amazon tradition."  
  
"Really?" He smiled. "How quaint."  
  
"I have a proposal for you, Alexander of Macedon." She looked up at him, eyes dark and wide, her voice returning to well spoken Greek. "I wish a union... the blood of Artemis, and the blood of Zeus. The child of Amazon and Alexander... would it not be glorious? A glorious heritage for us both, a new Dynasty from which to rule over the entire world!"  
  
"A worthy heir for you, and a girl child for me," she interrupted what she sensed as hesitation. "I ask no more, Great Alexander, than your seed, from which to grow a new future. ...None others are worthy."  
  
His eyes closed, and when they opened again, the blue orbs shone brightly.  
  
"How long will you be my guest here?"  
  
"Thirteen Days," she answered, knowing that beforehand. The number was sacred to them, and if she could not seduce him into an Amazon marriage by the first day, it was unlikely he would relent anytime after that. Then there was the possibility that he would simply have them executed if she attacked him, as she would have to before they could conceive a child. Either way, rejection would be the death knell for the Amazon people, whether she died with a spear in her heart, or sentenced to rot of old age, her pride and her strength dooming her family line and her world.  
  
"Thirteen Days?" His features settled into a smirk. "And any male child will be brought to me?"  
  
"Yes," she answered, huskily, excitement flushing her features. "Thalestris... I will return, in such a case, until I get the girl child I need as my own heir."  
  
He leaned in, his body pressing harder against hers, until their lips were almost touching. "Your people may not see fit to bow before me as their King... proud Amazon, but you will do this: You will call me King, and I will gift you with what you desire."  
  
"Then..." She hesitated, for only a second. "I will call you King."  
  
'If not Husband,' Her mind added, but soon enough, it found itself too preoccupied to care.  
  
***  
  
502 CE  
  
Liang Dynasty China  
  
"You've traveled far, honored guest. I trust the delay was not caused by any terrible inconvenience?"  
  
The dusty traveler brushed himself off, his well-worn cloak a dark brown when once it had been a light ochre. Pulling back his hood, he looked over his shoulder, and down the flight of steps that led up to the mountain keep. The stairs had appeared, slowly, out of the ground, almost a mile back, from the lowlands below. The winding path had made its way here, to a mortarless stone building of high walls, and a sky white pagoda, invisible to those below, and nestled securely in the peaks around it. It was secluded to an extreme, but the cloaked man had known the way and recognized the signs miles back.   
  
"There was some, but it was of little consequence once out of the Arablands." The stranger slipped off his traveling sandals, and got a good look at the one who had let him inside. He was a large warrior, at least six and a half feet tall, wearing a thick fur tunic, and baggy, loose pants.   
  
"The Arablands?" The man got a far away look. "I went... once. Years ago. How are they now?"  
  
"The Silk Road is nearly non existent, and it seems half the people one meets are bandits." The guest noted that his host had closed the massive metal-framed wooden doors with little effort.   
  
"I'm sure you enjoyed the exercise." The mammoth man gave a polite bow. "I'm afraid I won't be able to show you around..."  
  
"Bear blood?"   
  
The man nodded.  
  
"Think nothing of it. I believe I know the way." He inclined his head respectfully to the larger Musk warrior, and the two parted ways. Walking down the long hall, he stopped at a gleaming polished bronze shield, and checked his reflection in it. He could make out his features nicely in the metal surface, the high, prominent ears, slightly pointed, the slightly exaggerated nose and shallow chin. It was all perhaps a bit much, really - he had taken a bit more from his animal mother than he'd have liked, but the blood of the Jackal had always been a strong and dominant one.  
  
"Ah... you must be Anun." Another Musk came up to him, a spry individual of slightly light build, with somewhat dark orange hair. He smiled broadly, displaying prominent canines.   
  
"I am." Anun gave a small bow. "And you are...?"  
  
"Bah'zel." He bowed back. "Blood of the Fox, obviously. Your grasp of our language here is impressive. I'm afraid my Egyptian is quite rusty. Most of the old languages are a bit rusty... no practice, you see. I can say 'Thank you' 'kill that man' and a bunch of other things, but a real conversation, I only wish!"  
  
"Surprising. You talk a great deal..." Anun coughed, softly. "Are you...?"  
  
"The Scribe for Lord Haabu? None other!" Bah'zel didn't seem to mind having his talkativeness pointed out. "I write a lot, so I guess its only natural I talk a lot, too."  
  
"Yes, well. Setu prefers Scribes to be the silent type in his Court." Anun walked alongside the other Musk, keeping mental note of the place, in case he had to make another visit. It was quite lavishly decorated, though the ceilings were lower than he was accustomed to, and the general architecture not as... lofty or large in scale.  
  
"Not very progressive. Silence is golden, but advancement comes through communication."  
  
"Perhaps. But stability is not made through revolutions as the people here in Chi'in Ha seem so fond of."  
  
"At least the land here hasn't been taken over by half a dozen different foreigners." Bah'zel seemed to get a small laugh out of that. Anun just frowned. "That's like the village mule - everybody's had a ride...!"  
  
"I get the point." Anun cut his Asian counterpart off. "Is my lateness a problem for Lord Haabu?"  
  
"Oh, no." Bah'zel shook his head, and fixed his hands behind his neck in a leisurely way. "The Dragon Lord had no problem postponing it for a few more days. We just kept the girl locked up a bit. Some of the warriors were put off with the delay, though. Having to subdue their future wives again without bruising them too much..."  
  
Anun nodded slowly. "Understandable."  
  
"In a way, you have to admit, it's sort of archaic."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know... needing a witness from one of the other Musk Tribes to record the event. It's not like we don't have some semi-regular contact between everyone. And you know how much of a pain it is to get to the Musk in the Far East."  
  
"Far West," Anun corrected.  
  
"Far East, Far West... whatever. You get the general idea, though. I know it's an important occasion and all, and its good to keep comprehensive records of all the Springs, new and old, but I don't see why the other Scribe has to be there in person, when the information can be sent via courier." Bah'zel stopped in front of an open gate, where a Musk Warrior stood at attention.  
  
"Scribe?" The guard asked.  
  
"Get the girl. Tell King Haabu that the Setu Scribe is here and we're ready for the ceremony to begin." The fox-blood Musk paused, and faced his guest. "Unless you'd rather eat first?"  
  
"No," Anun politely declined. "I'd rather get the ceremony over with first."  
  
"Sounds good. Go get 'em." The Haabu Scribe motioned down the corridor, and the Musk warrior went off. Together, the two learned men went up a flight of stairs, and into an open area, with large pillars reaching up to the sky. Anun noted them, and sensed some familiarity.  
  
"Greek?" He asked. "They certainly appear to be at least inspired in design."  
  
"Part of a temple." Bah'zel sighed wistfully. "Way back when we brought some Greek warriors into the Tribe. It collapsed in a landslide a little over four hundred years ago, though, and was never rebuilt. We kept the pillars, though, and used them to sort of flank the path we're on. Which reminds me... you've been to Alexandria, right? I heard there was a fire... I was wondering how much of the library had been salvaged by the Setu Tribe."  
  
"We were able to restore very little, I'm afraid. The whole of the land seems to have been overrun by these barbarian Christians, who while uneducated and good for only taking up space in our ancient lands, at least seem to have perfect the art of setting things to the torch. I was there... I saw what was left. We could not react in time to save anything of significance. Truthfully, we avoid most cities, now... the political atmosphere not what it used to be." Anun's face was impassive, but his voice betrayed his feelings in the matter.  
  
Walking down the stone path, there was a moment of silence.  
  
"I guess that's why we make backups," Bah'zel finally said.  
  
"It is always prudent." Anun looked around, and felt a cool breeze move in from the west. "This is quite nice, actually. A pleasant change of pace from the desert, and the sand... and the crowds I passed through on my trip here."  
  
"It's a beautiful country," The Fox-Musk agreed. "The low areas are all right, too. Most people don't give much trouble..."  
  
"Amazons?"  
  
"Yeah. A bunch of the witches." Bah'zel shrugged. "They're not a big concern, though. Usually pretty quiet, actually. Especially compared to the problems I hear your Tribe has."  
  
"Yes... every time we try and deal with the Amazon problem to the west, particularly around the ruins of Carthage, it seems they just move and pop up somewhere else. Lately, they've settled themselves deep in the southern jungles, disrupting our activities there. It simply isn't worth the effort to go in and drive them out anymore." Anun realized he'd been getting angry, and calmed down. "It's terribly vexing, as you can imagine."  
  
"Oh, I can. And here we are... Chouchuanshan."  
  
"Large." Was the first word that came to mind. Anun leaned forward a bit, looking over the collection of cursed and uncursed springs. There looked to be over a hundred in all, some covered, but most open-air. It was the reason Bah'zel's tribe of Musk had settled where they did, overlooking the valley of springs. Every ten generations, the bloodlines of Musk needed to be refreshed by taking animal brides made into human form through the magic of a cursed spring.   
  
The springs were a natural phenomenon, occurring across the world, and it was believed that most had been mapped out long ago by the Musk Tribes, when they started to scatter and wander, searching to expand, to avoid putting 'all their bread in one basket' so to speak. Around the small springs, the Musk made small outposts, to keep watch over the area, and near the largest sets of springs, the Musk settled and built their homes and fortresses from which to perfect their Art and their Existence. This set, however, was the largest Anun had ever seen, though he had heard of similar sized ones found by the Quasil Musk in the Far West.  
  
"Yep. Pretty impressive." Bah'zel nodded, contently.   
  
"Very impressive," Anun corrected. "How many actually have curses?"  
  
"Oh... about half have recorded curses so far. Maybe a little more. Some of the smaller ones come and go every couple years. You know how it is... it's the same thing that happened to our old Woman Spring. One day, it just started draining away." The orange haired Musk Scribe started down the path, cut so it descended slowly and leisurely into the valley. Anun followed, listening to the different pools of drowned creatures they had down below. Some were reoccurring themes, world wide, like drowned birds and the like, but a few were exotic and unique to the region. There was a pool of drowned 'panda' which was some sort of vegetarian bear, in both a 'giant' and 'red' version... there was also a pool of drowned tiger, which wasn't a natural spring - a warrior had dragged a tiger from India to the springs, and drowned it, at the behest of the current Lord Haabu's grandfather.   
  
There was also a very old spring, 'The Spring of Drowned Asura,' in which a statue of the Hindu goddess had fallen in. This was quite unusual, in that the statue hadn't been 'alive,' and cursed springs had never, to Anun's knowledge, 'bonded' to anything without a life force to it. Bah'zel himself had an interest in it for similar reasons, but its power and danger meant that he had to work under tight restrictions. There was also a spring of drowned octopus in a particularly stagnant pool, created by the Musk as an experiment a century ago. Another unusual spring was the spring of 'yeti-riding-ox-while-carrying-eel-and-crane.' When asked if they had any Yeti-men nearby, Bah'zel shook his head, indicating that they had been for the most part wiped out over five centuries ago, save for a scattering high in the mountain passes.  
  
While they were talking, and the local Scribe was busy pointing out some of the more notable springs and geological features, Anun felt an advancing presence. Looking up at the path they had followed down, he saw a small group of Musk, lead by a tall figure in a white cloak, and dragonscale armor. Noticing that Anun's attention had shifted, Bah'zel quickly saw the same, and bowed down on a single knee as the dragon monarch approached. As he got closer, they could feel the tingle of the man's Ki on their own subdued auras - mentally, Anun compared him to Setu, and wondered which was more powerful. A battle between the blood relations would be, in a word, breathtaking.  
  
"My lord," Bah'zel prompted.  
  
"You may rise." King Haabu motioned for them to take to their feet, and they did. He faced the jackal blooded Musk. "You must be Anun, one of Setu's Scribes."  
  
"Yes, King Haabu. It is an honor to visit your domain."  
  
"Think nothing of it, Scribe." The dragon king gave a short laugh. "When this business is concluded, you must share tales of your travels, as well as news of my great cousin. I have not heard directly from the Egyptian Court in some time."  
  
"It would be a pleasure, Lord." Anun gave a deep bow. "Are we ready to begin?"  
  
"Yes. I believe we are." Haabu turned slightly, to the guards behind him. "Bring the girl forward."  
  
Two mid sized Musk warriors walked up to the Scribes, holding steady a naked woman. To Anun, she was obviously Asian or near Asian, though not Indian. She was fair of size, and fine of build - a good choice, overall. A very good choice, actually, though he wondered where she had come across natural blonde hair in this region. She seemed to have already exhausted herself struggling against the two guards, and collapsed into a sort of semi-consciousness. Her eyes were half closed, and had a distant quality to them.  
  
"Not a bad looker, is she?" Bah'zel seemed to have been thinking something similar, ribbing the Egyptian Musk rudely. "Especially for an Amazon peasant girl."  
  
"She's quite suitable," Anun quickly agreed, and kept it at that.  
  
"All right. This way!" The Fox-Musk clapped his hands together, and took them down a short set of wooden steps and into the actual springs area itself. The ground was lose, wet and slippery, but a series of slightly raised wooden planks and platforms crisscrossed the area, allowing visitors to walk around without risking slipping and falling into one of the cursed springs. He led the two guards and Anun a short distance, to a large nearby pool within easy access to the shore. King Haabu seemed content to watch from a distance.  
  
Suddenly, the woman came to life, and started kicking and howling, like a mad animal. The guard held her easily, and after only a few seconds of furious struggle, she collapsed and became limp again. Only her mouth moved, in ragged gasps.  
  
"No... no please. Please!" As they approached the spring, her voice became louder. "No please! Please don't! Lord Haabu! I have done you do wrong! No injustice! Spare me! Spare me, please! Oh please, I beg of you! Please please please pleaseplease..."  
  
Bah'zel looked from the panicked girl, from where she was held by the two guards, kneeling at the edge of the spring, to his King. Haabu merely nodded, and the Fox-Musk faced the two guards.  
  
"Do it," he said, simply.  
  
The girl took in a great gasp of air, before the two Musk guards plunged her head below the water. To her credit, she held her breath for some time, as if delaying the inevitable for even a minute was of some great importance. When her air began to run out, however, the struggling began anew. Her legs kicked out, wildly, and her hands clenched and unclenched, trying to find purchase in something... anything. Bubbles rose from the water, as she breathlessly screamed.   
  
In a few seconds, it was over.  
  
Anun looked away, and saw that Haabu had already headed inside. Turning back to the lifeless corpse, its head still in the water, its body on dry land, he saw Bah'zel lean down and check for a pulse, making sure that she was dead. Standing, the local Scribe crossed his arms. "Well... she looks dead. Leave the body there for... an hour or two. No point taking chances with the spring not accepting the curse because we took the body out too early. Then have it disposed of in the low country somewhere."  
  
"Problems?" Anun asked, when Bah'zel walked past him.  
  
"Minor problems..." He trailed off after that, and clasped the other man's shoulder. "Let's get back inside. Tonight, in celebration of this event, we feast!" 


	5. Learning Curve part 20

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XX (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
1951 CE  
  
Korea  
  
Hsing Kung wrung the water from his hat, and looked up with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. It wasn't even a pleasant cooling rain, like after a long day's work back home - it was a cold, depressing rain that only served to make an already bad day worse. Wiping his forehead, he questioned, not for the first time, whether it was wise to have gotten so worked up about marching into Korea for the 'good of the people.' True, he'd been excited by the idea of going anywhere remotely different from his village, he always had, but it was starting to get tedious... and dangerous.  
  
Luckily, he hadn't been pushed to the front to fight any of the United Nations and American troops. Instead, they'd kept him in the rear, shuffled from one minor position to another, in half a dozen units. He just didn't fit in anywhere - how could he? The last thing he wanted was to be put into a position where he had to kill or even wound another person. Hsing suspected that if push came to shove, he'd probably run.  
  
Shouldering his rifle, he pushed forward a little faster, the muck at his feet kicking up onto his pants. They were already dirty and wet, though, so it hardly mattered. To his side, he saw that the other soldiers he'd been stationed with were similarly uncomfortable, and looking to stop for at least a few minutes, but none of them were in charge. Leading them from almost in front was a foreigner: a Russian man, and a 'military advisor' from the U.S.S.R. He seemed fairly young, definitely no older than Hsing himself, but he was obviously more athletic. A large man, though not husky, he was tall, and had kept up a constant marching pace for hours.  
  
Sighing to himself, Hsing almost got up the courage to try and ask the man for some sort of pit stop, but chickened out at the last second. The Russian was almost always scowling or brooding about something, and didn't look like the kind of person to argue with. Instead, Hsing occupied himself by thinking back to his little village, where he'd been born and raised. A family of farmers, he'd had a younger brother and four sisters. He'd never really felt that close to them, except for his youngest sister, Shih, but now he felt like he missed them terribly. The constant bickering behind their father's back was far preferable to the sound of gunfire in the distance, and roar of jets and helicopters, and the deafening roar of artillery.   
  
Which was itself quite odd.  
  
Hsing had never felt any real fondness for the life he'd been born into. He'd been listless and feeling cooped up at home more often than not, and the only escape he'd found was in reading about the rest of China, and then the rest of the world. Self taught, he'd hoped, eventually, to get a job in a city somewhere, and maybe travel someday - India perhaps. Someplace with a rich history he could get lost in, and secluded places where he could just sit and think. Eventually, maybe, he'd write a book.   
  
A wet leaf smacked Hsing in the face, and he took a moment to swat it away.   
  
He'd been called up, and instead of running for it, had decided that it was a great opportunity to get out, and see some different places, maybe meet different and exciting people... He'd heard legends of great martial artists, ancient places forgotten by most men, and sights of natural beauty. He wanted to see them before he died. He wanted to experience them, and through them, feel unique and special. So he'd packed up what little personal items he'd hoarded over his twenty years of life, and headed off to fight in Korea, for the good of Communism everywhere.  
  
Or something like that.  
  
Truthfully, Hsing doubted that was the reason he and countless others had been sent into North Korea. From what he'd heard, and put together, the war had been going on for some time before they were sent in, with the North Koreans driving the Europeans defending the corrupt government in the south almost to the sea. Then there'd been a big turnabout and the Northern troops had been routed by the American General Macarthur. When they were pushed to the Chinese border, Chinese troops were finally sent to bail them out.   
  
Some cause it turned out to be: shoring up a buffer state. Not that it mattered, the cause hadn't really factored into him deciding to come. He'd just wanted to get away. Now, he just wanted to go back. ...Or did he? What did he have to look forward to at home? Becoming a farmer to a tiny plot of land... not even that - becoming a tenant farmer to a tiny plot of communal land, nothing to his name, no legacy and no future.   
  
He could read and write, though, and though he'd taught himself most of the outside knowledge he had, there was no guarantee at all that he'd be able to get more of an education, or if he were lucky, go to a college somewhere. He might just end up stuck in the military machine, then. Or maybe blown up or shot. Not that it'd be anti-climactic, he started to think... ironically, being caught in some huge explosion would actually be the high point of his life. Not exactly something to tell the grandkids, unless he survived as a broken, crippled, bitter old man, but still...  
  
Suddenly, Hsing felt something chill run down his spine.   
  
Gathering his courage, he decided to ask their leader for a break. "Sir?"  
  
"What?" The man asked, curly, in very passable Chinese.  
  
"I was wondering if we could stop for a few moments."  
  
"No," he almost snarled, and kept walking, slightly faster than before.   
  
"But..." Hsing pressed.  
  
"NO," The man repeated, louder this time.   
  
Hsing balked, and let it drop. For a few seconds, light shone down through the trees above, and he felt like enjoying it. The moment lasted only a second, before a tremendous howl split the air, and it seemed like from every angle, fire lapped up at him. He heard people yelling, softly, in a way - nearly silent compared to the explosion they'd been caught in. Instantly, Hsing threw himself to the ground, without even thinking, his mind instantly focused on recanting his earlier thoughts that being blown to bits would be the 'high point' of his life.   
  
He wanted to live!  
  
Even if it meant being a farmer in a rice patty, or a guard patrolling some tiny outpost in the middle of nowhere, he wanted to live! Then, as soon as it had happened, it seemed to be over, and a heartbeat later, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. He looked up, through the smoke, and saw someone, another soldier, running around, his gun pointed into the air, firing on full automatic. Shaking the stars from his vision, Hsing quickly patted himself down, checking to make sure he was whole and functioning, even as the adrenalin shot to his brain, flooding any attempt at logic with all consuming fight or flight instincts.   
  
Then he saw someone lying on the ground, clutching his arm, smoke rising from his body. It was their leader, and through the blasted bits of dirt, Hsing could see the man's grimace of pain where he lay, curled up in obvious agony. The sound of some sort of machinegun, and tufts of the ground spitting up into the air almost deterred him, almost sent him running.   
  
Almost.  
  
Running through the downpour of fire, Hsing leapt and quickly dragged the man to the safety of the brush, behind a large and sturdy looking tree. Looking down at the soldier he'd saved, Hsing saw the man's left hand clenched tightly, a shard of metal imbedded in the palm, and sticking out the back. Hsing was tempted to try and pull it out, but the other man stopped him.  
  
"Leave... leave it in. Can't... lose blood," he said, between gritted teeth.  
  
Hsing only nodded, somewhat dumbly. Getting slowly to his feet, and holding what seemed to be a broken rib or two, the larger man swallowed, hard, and motioned for them to fall back. Above, the sound of gunfire had diminished to nothing, and whatever had fired down at them, most likely a helicopter, or maybe a plane, was gone. Not that they could have done much against it anyway.  
  
"What about..." Hsing looked around, quickly, for any more wounded.  
  
"Probably already dead." He took Hsing's shoulder with his good hand. "Come on. Follow me."  
  
"But..." He hesitated, before giving in and following the man they'd been assigned to 'escort' to wherever he had been headed, wherever they were.  
  
"You saved my life." The Russian, or perhaps half Russian, now that Hsing got a good look at him, looked down at his bloody left hand. "What is your name, comrade?"  
  
"Hsing... Hsing Kung." He made a quick salute, more out of nervous habit than anything else.  
  
"Hsing." The man repeated, as they walked at a quick pace. "I'll remember that. Bishop Verikov never forgets a favor."  
  
***  
  
1999 CE  
  
China.  
  
Mousse wiped a hint of perspiration from his brow with his sleeve as the village came into view. He'd been building himself up for a visit home since he'd won the Onsen 'Hot Springs Obstacle' Race, back in Japan. Still, he found the surge of memories and the hesitation of returning stronger than he had assumed it would be.   
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
"No," Mousse answered, quickly, picking up his pace.  
  
Tso Pu didn't pry, and the group moved towards the village walls in silence. The main gate was open, like he had always remembered it being, and found his thoughts returning to Herb, the Musk Prince. Mousse had heard of him, though only in passing. Actual information on the ancient enemies of the Joketsuzoku Amazons was rare to come by.  
  
All he'd learnt, as a boy, was that the Musk were like animals - fierce, brutal, xenophobic, and worst of all in the eyes of the Amazons: patriarchal. Their Prince had certainly acted the part, blasting Mousse without warning with some sort of Ki energy, and kidnapping Ukyou - his friend.   
  
His close friend.  
  
Inside the walls, Mousse watched silently as the three women that had 'escorted' him back from Jyusenkyou went their own way. Mouse had half expected Tso Pu to say something in parting, perhaps to remind him of their deal not to mention that they had been in the forbidden valley of Jyusenkyou, or something else to try and get him in her pocket. Sure enough, the tall sister of Shan Pu paused, for a moment, looking at him over her shoulder.   
  
But she seemed to think twice, and kept walking.  
  
Emboldened, by their leader's lack of parting words, Plun opened her ugly maw. "You go back to male friends, Moo. Don't play the warrior you know you're not."  
  
"Of course." Mousse smiled, warmly, before switching to Japanese. "I won't bother you anymore, you walking sack of garbage."  
  
Plun grimaced, not understanding.  
  
"I'll see you in hell, you dirty bitch." Waving and smiling smugly, Mouse spun on his heel, and stalked into the heart of the male quarter. He hated the place, more than any other, which was exactly why he made sure to see it, and to keep it burnt into his memory. The male quarter of the Joketsuzoku village consisted of three longhouse type buildings, mud brick, with thatched roofs. These were the bachelor houses, where the unattached male Amazons stayed, and worked away their menial lives, doing chores the rest of the village would shun.  
  
And shun they did, those who did the jobs, if not the jobs themselves.  
  
He watched as three of them noticed him, and stopped cleaning the large rug they'd obviously been assigned to deal with. They were pathetic, really - beaten mentally, if not physically, and subservient to all women, and even married men. These men and boys, though none present were younger than fifteen, had not been picked by any female Amazons for marriage, and as such were homeless. Kicked out when they came of age by their families, and unwanted or unwelcome by any single unmarried women, because of their health, appearance, or any number of unknown things, they congregated together in their hovels.  
  
Mousse had been one of them once, though that seemed an eternity ago.  
  
He spread his arms, and one of the three came forward, blinking his eyes as if seeing a mirage. He was a thin man, a year or so Mousse' senior, with thick braided black hair, kept just above shoulder length - as was the custom. Males were forbidden to have longer than shoulder length hair, as were disgraced females. Long hair was maintained by those who fight and lead, and among the Joketsuzoku, males did neither. It was the reason Mousse kept his hair long, in defiance of that stereotype, and out of pride for his own forbidden fighting abilities.   
  
"I can't believe you came back, Mu Tzu." The man smiled, a thin moustache clinging to his upper lip. The two men were almost the exact same height, and Mousse openly embraced the man, clasping his shoulders firmly.  
  
"Had to sooner or later. At least until they finally kick me out. How you holding up, Rho Bu?" Mousse let go of the guy's shoulders, and crossed his arms.  
  
"Not so great, Mu. You know how it is..."  
  
"What about Lo Shin?"  
  
Rho shook his head. "Didn't work out. She is still single, though. Just didn't pick me."  
  
"Sorry to hear that." Mousse meant it - Robe had been dedicated to the male Amazon lifestyle, and he was a good, honest, hard worker. Mousse still found him spineless, like all Amazon males, but he was an all right person, and deserved some measure of happiness.   
  
"You'll..."  
  
"I'll find a woman, yet?" Rho sighed. "Was that what you were about to say, Mu? I'm not getting any younger."  
  
Mousse nodded, understanding. After twenty-five, it was almost impossible for a male Amazon to get picked by a female, especially with the 'option' of finding a strong outsider male instead of a domestic native one. It was the hypocrisy that Mousse had always most abhorred, and part of the reason he so disliked Saotome Ranma. Amazons found, in a strong outsider male, a good mate, and yet in an Amazon male, expected servitude and weakness. It was a double standard, and Mousse had personified breaking it. Like all Amazon men, he had the domestic skills they had been taught since their youth, and yet he had learned to fight, and hunt, and explore.  
  
What was he, now?  
  
He could see that Rho was asking himself that same question, just looking at Mousse. They had grown up together, and though they had never been close, Mousse had gotten along better with Robe than the other men. And still, he didn't know what his childhood acquaintance was: Amazon male, or self made Outsider? Mousse had always hoped to be a mixture of both, to be caring and emotional and supportive, though not subservient, and yet strong and respected. Always respected.  
  
Now, he wasn't so sure.  
  
"Hey. You must be hungry." Robe motioned for him to follow, and yelled to the other bachelor Amazon men to finish up. They didn't say a word, and seemed to prefer on focusing on their 'work' than the outsider Amazon that was once again among them.  
  
"I am a bit," Mousse admitted. He hadn't eaten in over a day.  
  
"I'll cook up something," Rho Bu offered. "You can pay me back by telling me about Japan, and all the adventures you've had there."  
  
"Not too much to tell." Mousse mentally went over what he would say over dinner, and what he would keep to himself. Certainly, he could say things about Japan, and what he'd seen there - tourist stuff, mostly, but the other things, there were things he wanted to keep to himself for the moment. Information was power, and the more mysterious he could keep himself, the more invincible he became.   
  
"I'm sure you'll come up with something interesting. ...Mousse, are you planning on seeing your mother?"  
  
Mousse frowned. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."  
  
Robe said nothing more.  
  
Mousse was glad he didn't. The matter of his mother was a sensitive one. Mu Tzu, unlike the vast majority of male Amazons, had never known his father. He had been an outsider, a man passing through, who had gotten engaged in typical fashion, and died a year after Mousse had been born. They had no pictures of him, and Mousse mother couldn't even accurately describe him anymore, not that she had ever gotten a good look at him, he suspected, given her sub par vision, and habit of not keeping on her glasses.   
  
Following custom, she had raised him as a child, before he was handed over for training in the 'male arts.' At which point, he had drifted apart from her, and never really sealed up the rift. She had shown cursory interest in his attempted flirting with Shampoo, and she had never treated him poorly, but they had always kept at arm's reach. Still, he loved her dearly - she had been as supportive and caring as a mother could, under the circumstances.  
  
Robe led Mousse to the closest of the communal houses. There were a few other bachelors about, and three old men hunched over a table, playing some sort of game. Unlike the matriarchs, who were respected for their age and wisdom, and even power in a few cases, elderly males had little to live for. Those three, Mousse recognized. They had always been bachelors, and had long since given up ever being picked, even by one of the widowed elders, who preferred to 'pick up' younger males.  
  
Mousse shook his head, and sat down on one of the cot like beds provided for the bachelors. Robe leaned over the cooking fire in the middle of the place, and started quickly making something warm to eat. As he did, he spoke up, "So, Mu Tzu, what made you come back?"  
  
"I... promised to show someone around. A good friend of mine."  
  
"From Japan?"  
  
"From Japan, yes. ...She had heard about the area, and wanted to give it a look. I spoke the language, and agreed to go along. We stayed on the coast for a bit... saw Beijing."  
  
"Really?" Robe perked up at that. "What's it like?"  
  
"Big. You'd be surprised how large these cities get. Beijing... Tokyo... Kyoto." Mousse added that last one, remembering what Ukyou had told him of her home city. "There are buildings that go so high that they're like mountains of glass and iron."  
  
"Wow." Robe sat down in front of the fire, looking up while rapidly cutting an onion with a small knife. "You didn't bring any pictures did you?"  
  
"Pictures?" Mousse scratched his chin. "Well... Yeah, I guess I've got a few."  
  
"Can I see them?" Robe put the nearly diced onions into some sort of sauce, in a pan over the fire.   
  
Mousse hesitated. "Ah..."  
  
"Please?" Robe stirred the pan a bit, got up, and walked over. "Come on, Mousse! We all can't actually leave the village, you know."  
  
"All right. All right... why not?" Mousse flexed his wrists, searching through his robe for a second before finding what he was looking for.   
  
"What's that?" Robe asked, seeing what Mousse brought out.  
  
"It's a wallet." Mousse opened the leather case. He had some yen with him still, though not a lot, given how antsy The People's Republic was about foreign currency in their borders, and a larger chunk of yuan, that he and Ukyou had converted when they came into the country. Looking in one of the side pockets, he took out a small handful of color pictures.  
  
"That's me in front of Tokyo Tower." Mousse showed Robe the picture. It was one of the first pictures he'd taken in Japan, and it showed. He'd given the camera to a teenage kid, and a bit of his thumb was showing in the upper side of the picture. Still, it showed him, in his usual robes, in front of the famous metal structure/tourist attraction.  
  
"Look," Mousse took out another one. "This is me in the Ginza shopping district."  
  
"Who are all those other people?"  
  
"Well... that's Tendo Kasumi, Nabiki, and Akane... their father, Soun, took this picture." He pointed to the boy next to Nabiki. "That's Hibiki Ryouga. Between him and me is a girl named Kuonji Ukyou."  
  
"Why is she dressed like a man?"  
  
"It's... a long story." Mousse hurried to continue. "Anyway, you can see that it's really crowded. When the Tendos learnt that I really hadn't seen much of Tokyo, they offered to take me to Ginza. I didn't buy anything... because I couldn't afford much, but Ryouga and I ended up carrying a lot. Akane and Nabiki wanted clothes, and Kasumi wanted some new stuff for the kitchen..."  
  
"Why would she want new stuff for the kitchen?"  
  
"She does all the cooking. Akane can't tell bread from paper, from what I've heard, I don't know about Nabiki, and I doubt that old man Tendo is of any use in the kitchen. So she does all the cooking. ...She's good, too. Better than me, certainly."  
  
"You could never cook anyway!" Robe laughed, and went over to the fire, checking on whatever he was making. After getting some stuff, he came back. "Ok, what's next?"  
  
"I can cook you know." Mousse frowned. "Just because I don't make a living out of it..."  
  
"Of course. Of course." Robe held his hands up, relenting.  
  
"Anyway... ok, look at this. This is a nightclub Ukyou and I went to just before we came to China. Nabiki, Ryouga, Akane and... someone else were supposed to come too, but they had to cancel at the last minute."  
  
"What's this 'nightclub?'"  
  
"Well... it's a crowded place. I couldn't really wear my robe." Mousse almost blushed at the thought. He'd felt almost naked without his robe and his weapons, but Ukyou had insisted they go as 'semi-normal' as possible, and had even left her minispatulas and megaspatula at her restaurant. "Everyone there gets together and there's lots of music and dancing."  
  
"You mean like a festival?"  
  
"Not the festivals here, that's for sure. It's kind of hard to explain."  
  
"Ah... I guess I get the idea. What's next?"  
  
"This... is a picture of Shan Pu." Mousse paused, and got a good look at it himself. It was a picture he'd purchased from Nabiki, of Shampoo in her waitress outfit, smiling pleasantly. Most likely, it had been taken moments before she tried to glomp onto Ranma, though Mousse wasn't really sure. She looked beautiful... she always looked beautiful to him, but she looked positively vibrant and independent in this picture - capturing everything he associated with and loved about the Amazon girl.   
  
Oddly, he realized it was the only picture he had of her.  
  
"She looks well." Robe looked at the picture, but didn't linger on it.   
  
Why would he? He didn't really care for her.   
  
He didn't care *about* her.  
  
"She's well," Mousse echoed, and moved onto the next picture. "This is Ukyou and me. The guy on the ground with hair shears in his hand is the head of the school where Ukyou goes, Furinkan High school. It's a really good picture. Nabiki took this one a while ago... maybe two months or so. I don't really remember. We beat up that guy dozens of times."  
  
"You beat up your teacher?"  
  
"Not my teacher. Only Ukyou, Nabiki and Akane went to school there. And this guy was totally insane... he had it all coming. We were acting in self defense."  
  
"If ...you say so."   
  
"And this last one." Mousse examined it for a few seconds. "This is Ukyou again, and Hibiki Ryouga. I took this of them in a park somewhere - I'm not sure where. Ryouga was kind of lost at the time."  
  
"Looks like you've got quite a few new friends in Japan. Was it one of them that you came here with, or someone else?" Rho Bu went back to the food, while Mousse put the pictures away, and the wallet back into his robes. Mousse mentally debated whether or not to answer honestly, before making a decision.   
  
"Kuonji Ukyou," he finally said, his voice firm. "I came with her. And I'll leave with her."  
  
Robe smiled wryly and handed him a copper plate, with the stir-fry in it, not commenting on what Mousse had said with such intensity. They ate in silence, and Mousse couldn't help but realize that his Joketsuzoku acquaintance was, indeed, a far better cook than he was. They parted on good terms, and as the sky was starting to darken, Mousse blended into the night. He had work to see to, and things to do, and it wouldn't be prudent to involve anyone else in them, especially a nice guy like Rho Bu.  
  
***  
  
Mousse moved swiftly and silently, his long sleeves catching an updraft of wind as he jumped, before landing soundlessly on the roof of the building. He was deep in the matriarch quarter, now, where males seldom visited, and never stayed. Adjusting his glasses slightly, he followed the movement of the two female guards below, both armed with a long spear and bow. They looked around forty, middle aged - proven veteran fighters, though veterans of what, Mousse couldn't say. The Amazons hadn't gotten involved in a serious fight in generations. Still, this was the matriarchal quarter, and as such, it was populated and primarily guarded by older women.  
  
Women who had proven their loyalty to the Council of Elders.  
  
He was tempted to take them out, quickly, but quickly realized that would cause more problems than solutions. So Mousse waited, nearly motionless, while the two stood on guard in front of the door below him. He entered a minor meditative trance, to pass the time, and to hone his body... to attenuate it into the background Ki of the world and the village. Compared to the vast majority of the world, and even crowded places like Tokyo, the village had a good deal higher ambient amount of Ki as a backdrop. It made it much easier to hide, and avoid setting off any of the more experienced fighter's danger senses.   
  
Hours passed, before the two weary guards below yawned, and stirred in preparation for the next shift to take their place. Mousse heard more than saw their replacements, some way off, heading towards the windowless building. He waited for the near morning duo to take their places, and wave off their elders, before carefully sprinkling a small handful of dust above them, while the wind was almost non-existent. It was a relatively tiny application of sleeping powder, but it had the desired effect after a few minutes.   
  
With the guards asleep, Mousse landed between them, and shook the kinks out of his arms and neck. For the seemingly hundredth time, he looked around and made sure no one was around or aware of him. The last thing he needed was one of the Elders, like Pas Tu, finding out what he was about to do, or even seeing him about to do it. But Mousse doubted they would know. Only a few bachelor males, and Soap, Plunger, and Mirror knew he was even in the village. Soap and her cronies wouldn't say anything that would lead to questions as to where they had been, and where he had found them, exploring the Forbidden area of Jyusenkyou, and no self respecting female Amazon would care less what the bachelor males think or say.  
  
No, he would have free reign, at least for the moment.  
  
After dragging the two unconscious women to the side of the building, and out of sight, he appraised the situation. From behind his left ear, the Master of Hidden Weapons drew out a small lock pick, and went to work on the hefty iron mechanism. It only took a few moments for his practiced fingers to open it, and then he cracked the heavy wooden doors ajar. Covering his handiwork with a black bit of cloth, to avoid casual eyes noticing anything unusual, he entered, closing the door behind him.   
  
Finally, breaking out a small pocket flashlight, he allowed himself a quick smile of nervous appreciation. He had done it, and quite easily, too - broken into the Joketsuzoku Library. Inside the sturdily crafted stonewalls, thanks to his own illumination, Mousse could see a long shelf of tomes, scrolls, and books. Shifting his point of study, he saw a few weapons and other artifacts, though not nearly as many as he had expected to find. True, Happosai had stolen a goodly number of them almost three centuries ago, and Cologne had taken more than a few with her to Japan, more than a year ago, but he'd still expected much more from what he'd heard, off hand.  
  
Then again, only the Elders ever actually entered the library.  
  
The Elders, and now, him: a lowborn, outcast bachelor male.  
  
The thought made him grin widely, before he caught himself and focused on the task at hand. He was here for something specific, and he found it on the wall across from the shelves of books. Standing before the large map, etched into a thick sheet of old paper, Mousse scanned it from top to bottom, and making sure it was what he was looking for. Smiling, he saw the tiny seal of the Jakou-Maneki... the Musk Dynasty.  
  
It was the map.  
  
The Joketsuzoku had kept conspicuous records of their engagements with the Musk, and the territorial claims of the other groups in the region, as well as information on their fortifications, outposts, and holdings... Quickly taking out a three large sheets of drafting paper, Mousse started copying, and getting down as much as he could. Most of his effort was directed at the area mapping out the territories of the Musk and the area of Jyusenkyou, but he made sure to get less accurate cursory information on other areas, like that of the Seven Lucky Gods, just in case it became necessary.  
  
Rolling the copies up, and putting them away, Mousse hesitated on his way out. He'd always dreamt of sneaking into the Library and finally finding out all that had been held back from him, and everyone, for all these years. Checking the time on his watch, he quickly looked through the different groupings that the scrolls were in. Stopping at the genealogy scrolls, he found Shampoo's, and on a lark, carefully opened it. It wasn't as old as he thought it would be, and then figured it had likely been copied from an older document a few hundred years ago.  
  
On the bottom, in relatively fresh looking ink, he saw Shan Pu and Tso Pu, but neither were the reason he'd decided to look at this particular scroll. Looking up through the generations, he passed the name of Khu Lon and kept going. Mousse had heard that Shampoo was descended from the Forgotten King; the one figure in Amazon history Mousse had ever felt anything approaching respect... or maybe understanding, for. He'd first heard the legend told among the older boys, when he was young. Nothing might have come of it, had he not asked his mother, and had not she, in turn, told him more... etching the story into his mind, forever.   
  
It was told that, in a time of great wars, across the world, and in a time of great crisis for the Amazon tribes, a male Amazon appeared, almost from nowhere. He had been exiled as a boy, and returned a man. In this time, the Three Dynasties of the Musk had been growing strong and influential, and in Asia the Amazons had been reduced to a nomadic, leaderless existence. They were broken spiritually and physically, and hounded by their enemies.  
  
This man came to them, and gathered together his brothers and sisters - treating each equally, and needing them both to work together to survive. He battled where others challenged him, and no woman could defeat him, and to those that desired his fall, he felled them in turn. Merciless to his enemies, he reorganized the Amazons of Asia, and led them from the arid plains where they had been kept moving and starving and homeless, and drove boldly into the Musk and the Chinese Kingdoms that opposed them. He cut them down, and for the first time, brought the Musk to the hearth fire, where they brokered an agreement, and an end to the fighting.  
  
The Amazons settled, and the Joketsuzoku was born.  
  
But, in time, the old ways returned, and the Forgotten King was slain, some say by his wife, while he slept, when their daughter came of age. His name was burned from the scrolls that had recorded it, and never again did a male rise from within the Amazons to question the status quo, as the Council of Elders rose to fill the power vacuum. Mousse finally reached the top of the page, nearly breathless in anticipation, but knowing he would not find what he desired.   
  
The Forgotten King's name was gone, never recovered. Never again spoken.  
  
Replaced by a scorch of black ash on paper.  
  
But his blood survived. It survived through Xanthe, in Khu Lon, in Tso Pu, and in Shan Pu. Putting the scroll away, he moved down slightly, looking for a section dealing with the Musk. Finding the three rolled parchments easily enough, he took out the smaller looking one, and opened it.   
  
"What the hell?" Mousse blinked in surprise.   
  
It was blank.  
  
"Odd."  
  
He put it away, and tried the next one. It, like the one before it, looked somewhat old and wrinkled, but it was blank, too. Annoyed, and more than a little confused, he tried the last one and found that it, too, was a phony. It only took a moment for him to see what had happened - someone had stolen the real scrolls... it was impossible to think that the Joketsuzoku had no information whatsoever on the Musk, after so many centuries, even counting Happosai's thievery so long ago.   
  
"So... there's a wolf among the sheep, eh?" Mousse scoffed, and put the last scroll back. The pieces came together perfectly...  
  
Herb was standing watch over Jyusenkyou, where the Musk had not been seen since Cologne's time. The obvious cooperation and consent of the Jyusenkyou Guide at the scene. Missing Musk records in the Amazon Library. After hundreds of years, the Musk Dynasty must again be on the move, not just against the Phoenix Tribe, as they always were and always had been, but against the Joketsuzoku as well. And the Amazons had a traitor... or a conspiracy of traitors, living under their noses.  
  
But why hadn't one of the Elders... people who would never ally with the Musk, people who hate the Musk and what they stand for, why wouldn't one of them have noticed that the records were gone? The scrolls looked very convincing, yes, but they were still empty. Could it be that no one even checked them anymore? Or, alternatively, had the theft occurred recently? Perhaps even very recently?  
  
"Damn it. I better get out of here," Mousse hissed under his breath, and headed for the door.   
  
Only to have it open out on him before he could touch the handle.  
  
"You lost, Moo?"  
  
"Yeah..." Mousse stepped back, flashlight between his teeth, as he reached into his robes casually. "Is this the little Amazonian's room?"  
  
"Nope." Plun Gu's steel mace caught a bit of light from the flashlight, as shapes moved outside the doorway behind her.  
  
"Oh. My mistake. I'll just be leaving then," Mousse spoke despite the flashlight in his mouth, and stepped forward, his hands inside his sleeves finding the grips of well-concealed weapons.  
  
"You'll be...." She looked about to strike, when another voice called out, stopping her. Mousse recognized her instantly, even just by her tone, even before his flashlight passed by her features -a wealth of light brown hair obscuring her left eye, her right one dark and uncompromising. The fact that she was wearing her iron-coil bracers, replete with backwards-swept blades, meant she had come prepared too fight.  
  
"You'll be putting down those weapons in your sleeves, Mu Tzu!" Tso Pu stepped forward, a torch in one hand, her other empty. Her spear, however, was still strapped to her back and ready to be drawn.  
  
Mousse's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What're you going to do, Tso? Bring me in?"  
  
Her eyes moved like vipers, from him to the shelf of books.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here, Mu Tzu."  
  
"Yeah, well, one place I'm definitely not going to be in is some cage waiting to be put on trail. No, no, no, no..." Mousse shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, except out of here."  
  
"Don't make us fight you, Mu Tzu. What would your mother think?"  
  
Mousse smiled. "What would your father think?"  
  
"Enough talk!" Plun's hot temper got the better of her, and quick as lightning, she lunged, weapon aimed to break the Chinese boy's shoulder. She covered half the distance, before there was a sweeping wave of blinding white cloth, and the sound of a heavy weapon hitting the ground.  
  
"Such haste..." Mousse tightened his grip around her right wrist, while the muscles of his other arm pressed on Plunger's windpipe. In a single motion, he had immobilized her, disarmed her, and now held her soundly. Plun let out a sound that was part whimper and part snarl, but nothing that could be interpreted as words.  
  
"Now I've got a hostage," Mousse said, voice calm. "Just what I wanted, too. Step back, Tso."  
  
"Or?"  
  
"Or what do you think? ...Make your decision quickly now. I don't think bat face here can hold her breath too long. Can you, Plun?"   
  
Mousse was desperate now, and though his voice didn't show it, he was like a cornered animal - dangerous. Plun Gu let out another angry gasp. Tso Pu didn't move. She was calling his bluff, and didn't seem to care whether Plunger lived or died. Frowning, she called over her shoulder, "Mir Ru! Get one of the Elders! Now!"  
  
"But..." A voice from outside protested.  
  
"GO!" Soap shouted, and the other girl was off instantly.  
  
"You see, what I'd like to know is how you can just watch this friend of yours die? Especially at the hands of an outcast single Amazon male like myself."  
  
"You're no killer, Mu Tzu."  
  
"You think so?" Mousse's glasses glinted dangerously.  
  
"I know so. I've met killers, Mu Tzu. I know them, and I know you." Tso made a half smile as she talked. "You're running out of time. Any second now, the whole damn village will be up and awake, and looking for you. You want to add murder to trespassing, you go right ahead."  
  
Plunger let out another choked sob.  
  
Mousse's shoulder trembled, for half a second, before he moved. Like a tornado, he spun, throwing Plunger to the side, and against the hard stonewall, knocking her out. Both hands reached into his sleeves, just as Soap drew her spear. They clashed, Mousse leaning forward, Mandarin Duck Axes parried by the solid wood of a torch and the metal blade-base of Soap's spear. Mousse scowled, and broke the lock, forcing Soap to the side as he locked again with her weapons. With a hard flick of the wrist, he sawed through the wood of the torch, and as the two pieces fell to the ground, Soap's other hand found the spear, and pulled back.  
  
Mousse's feet left the ground to avoid the sweep, and he had to lean back almost to the point of snapping his spine to avoid the following trust with the tip. He locked again, with his right weapon, and advanced with the left, forcing Soap back and to the side. In the dim light of the dying torch, lying on the ground at their feet, the two Amazons danced.  
  
Soap was good, Mousse had to admit. Far less heavy handed than Shampoo, and definitely not as physically overpowering or strong, she concentrated on counters and ultra quick moves. Mousse didn't doubt that, if pressed, and given the opportunity, she could strike with her spear at Amaguriken speeds. Of course, he knew better than to give her that opportunity.   
  
"You're much better than I thought, Mu!" Soap's back hit the wall, and her hand had to leave her spear to catch his at the wrist, before his blade could strike. They were at a minor impasse, with him possessing the slight advantage in situation and strength.  
  
"You should have let me go," he snarled.  
  
"Sorry, Mu... this was too good an opportunity to pass up." She saw the confusion on his face. "You're in way over your head. Messing with things you don't even understand."  
  
"...You?"  
  
"Not what you think." She held his striking hand at bay, as a momentary surge of anger granted him extra strength.  
  
"You're setting me up!"  
  
"You broke in here Mu... you're a big boy. You're responsible for what you do, whether you get caught or not." Soap shook her head, long bangs swaying from the motion. "For what it's worth, I'm sor..."  
  
"Save it!" Mousse broke off from their grapple, and quickly composed himself, or tried to. Scoffing, he looked away from her. "Well, looks like you finally get to play hero for real, Tso."  
  
He gave her one last hard stare, loaded with a full clip of accusation, and bolted out the door. He'd been defeated, even if she hadn't physically brought him in. Even if she wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to or not. In the darkness, Soap watched him go. Almost casually, she wiped her index finger under her right eye, to make sure it was dry.   
  
"Another time then, Mu Tzu."  
  
It came back wet.  
  
***  
  
Japan.  
  
"I've brought you your paper, papa."  
  
"Er... Thank you."  
  
"I made you some nice tea, papa."  
  
"That's... so considerate."  
  
"Your lunch is ready, father."  
  
"Be right there..."  
  
"I bought you some nice bean filled rice cakes for a snack, papa."  
  
"Uh... you're too kind."  
  
Tendo Soun rubbed the base of his nose, as the steam rose around him. The water was more than a little on the hot side, and it served its purpose well, boiling the knots in his neck and shoulders away almost completely. If only for a while, the situation outside the furo seemed far away and someone else' problem.  
  
"I tell you, Saotome..." Soun sighed, letting out a deep groan. "I just can't take it anymore."  
  
"Hey, Tendo," Genma said and paused, as if considering whether to broach the subject further, before deciding it would end up coming up sooner or later anyway. "Are you sure you didn't do it?"  
  
"Saotome, what do you take me for? I'm very high strung... How could I possibly...?"  
  
"Father!"  
  
"Saotome-san!"  
  
Genma saw them coming first, or perhaps his better-honed senses simply heard the door opening first. Regardless, Soun was not far behind, when the two girls' voices indicated their barely existing hesitation to enter the room. With a splash appropriate to and amount of aging martial artist suddenly displacing it, the two were underwater.   
  
Soun rose out of the water, and opened his eyes to see the older one - Natsume, with her long samurai bob of dark brown hair, leaning over the edge of the bath. She didn't even have any of his features, though he hadn't come out and said so. Why did a little scrap of paper mean more than his own word, in his own house?  
  
"Oh, father, let me wash your back!" She said in a remarkably hero-worship way that thoroughly unnerved him. His own daughters had never acted this way, why would these... pseudo-Tendos act like he was the new center of their universe?  
  
Kasumi had never acted this way. She had always been obedient, and kind, and helpful and eager - so much like her mother, but her idol had always been just that: her mother. And she found purpose in honoring that memory, and keeping true to it. Nabiki had certainly never really respected him, he had always known. He did truly love his middle daughter, even as they drifted further apart, and even as Nabiki found her role in life by being what her sisters weren't. And heavens forbid, Akane hadn't acted like these two since she was half the age she was now, not after he taught her all she ...had to know about the Family School.  
  
"No!" Soun put forward his sternest sounding voice. "Absolutely not! Young girls have no business in the..."  
  
"Oh, your back is so nice and big, Saotome-san."  
  
"What a nice thing to say."  
  
Soun turned, eyes half lidded, at the sight of his oldest friend and compatriot getting his back washed by the younger of the two, Kurumi, with her brown-orange hair tied up with that curious weapon-bow. It was something he'd have to talk to the Hibiki boy about, given that Soun's own knowledge in respect to Iron Cloth techniques and Martial Arts Gymnastics was more than slightly limited.  
  
Genma seemed quite content, however, and totally oblivious to the expression of his old buddy. Giving up, Soun returned to the water from whence he came, dearly hoping he could simply blot out the world around him, and let the hot water do its job. It was truly a fool's dream.  
  
Things were destined to get worse.  
  
"Come on! Don't you think they're overdoing it? Dad and Mr. Saotome are acting like a couple of idiots!" Akane's face turned from an angry red to an I-could-destroy-Pompeii purple before Nabiki's eyes. She then went on to state the obvious. "OOHH! They made me so mad I can hardly stand it!"  
  
It had been two days since they got back from their little adventure with the amazing transforming monster with a name problem. For a scant few seconds, apparently, things had looked good - maybe a few days of total leisure and doing absolutely nothing and thinking about even less, when something new got thrown in their faces. She'd woken up that day on the couch next to Ryouga, who had fallen asleep with both brows furrowed, an obvious frown on his features.   
  
She still wasn't sure whether it was there because of what he thought he'd done at the Temple of the Watery Grave, or because he'd walked back into a situation where he had no hope of fighting his way out to any sort of conclusion. He and Ranma had largely retreated to the dojo. They weren't fighting, which was a good thing, but the whole situation seemed to draw them to another place where they didn't have to worry about anyone except themselves and their fists, not words.   
  
Then there was the fact that everyone, herself included, had pinned this on the lost boy for giving the Lost Tendo girls their general address. Natsume had happily pointed out that they'd run into each other in the woods, and that Ryouga had been kind enough to point them in the direction of Nerima. How sorry Ryouga was for what he'd done, she wasn't sure. He'd cringed visibly, more than she'd ever seen him cringe from a physical blow, when she and Akane had stared him down right after finding out he'd led total strangers to their home, and gotten them a pair of supposedly illegitimate sisters.  
  
He'd subsequently mumbled something, and kept quiet the last few days.  
  
It was stupid, and the more Nabiki thought about it, the less terrible it seemed. Really, what did it matter of their father had an affair all those years ago, beyond the little emotional problems with him cheating on their mother, which were, from a practical point of view, moot at this point anyway? Akane seemed to take it the wrong way, certainly, not believing that it could have happened, and that Soun's new daughters were acting the part far better than any of them every really did. Kasumi seemed herself, but Nabiki suspected there was a tension to the situation that her older sister kept well hidden.   
  
"Hey, I think its great! Now dad and Mr. Saotome won't be a burden on us in their old age!" Nabiki leaned back a bit as she spoke, waving the pen in her right hand around.  
  
"We should be nice to them," Kasumi spoke up before her youngest sister could say anything. "Think about it. Those two have never had a family of their own. It wouldn't hurt to show them a little kindness, Akane."  
  
She seemed to wrestle with the idea, but coming from Kasumi, who could refuse?  
  
"Oh, all right." Akane looked away, at the floor. She obviously wasn't happy about things at all, but putting on a pretense of civility couldn't hurt.   
  
It probably wouldn't do any good, though. 


	6. Learning Curve part 21

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXI (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
"Father... Saotome-san... have some beer." Natsume walked in with a tray of tall glasses, setting them on the table. Kurumi was still busy fanning the two.  
  
"Ahhh, Tendo..." Genma lazily reached over, and raised a glass to his friend, noting his forlorn face. "Not many parents have such obedient children, you know. Take me for example. All I have is that ingrate son of mine..."  
  
Soun's expression didn't change.  
  
"Ohh, you're so lucky!" He leaned over, conspiratorially, his voice low. "If you were smart, Tendo, you'd let those two carry on the dojo. Then we could just sit back and enjoy the good..."  
  
A metal canister of beer to the back of the head cut him off rudely.  
  
"Please don't give my dad any dumb ideas, Mr. Saotome!" Akane crossed her arms.  
  
But the thought lingered.  
  
"But Akane," Natsume broached from where she sat. "You may not understand... but what he says is right."  
  
"What did you say?" Akane felt her voice threatening to break as the anger rose at being contradicted, especially by this Natsume, this Tendo-pretender, of all people.  
  
"The Dojo should go to the School's strongest fighter. The right to pass on the techniques of the Tendo Musabetsu Kakutou Ryu belongs to that person... I believe my sister and I are a more logical choice to inherit the training hall," The older girl spoke levelly, as if stating the weather. Something about it ticked Akane off even more.  
  
"Natsume..." Kurumi warned, but it was too late.   
  
"Ohhh, I see!" Akane's hands turned to fists. "You're saying that you're stronger than me, is that it?"  
  
"Shall we find out?" Natsume didn't seem about to back down.  
  
"I'm ready whenever you are!"  
  
"Now... now stop that you two!" Soun gritted his teeth, and decided to intervene. The two girls who thought they were his daughters would back down if he told them that a fight would not decide it - that he alone had the right and obligation to name an heir to the School. Akane he could barely restrain anymore, but if the others would back down it would have the same effect. The last thing he, or the family, needed was this sort of internecine conflict. Even if he couldn't solve the conflict, for the moment, he could put it off for a few days, maybe weeks, until a genetic test proved he wasn't their father.  
  
"Hold it right there!" A familiar voice interrupted the Tendo patriarch, and the screen doors were pushed aside by a certain busty redhead. "I, Saotome Ranma, except that challenge!"  
  
"Ranma!" Soun faced the boy turned girl. "Don't you dare make this any worse than it already is!"  
  
"That's right!" Akane chimed in, though she hardly agreed with her father's intent on the matter. "This one is my fight!"  
  
"I really don't care... I don't know who you are, where you came from, or why you have Ranma-san's name... but we two sisters will fight the both of you!" Natsume's voice was firm and unyielding. "The winner shall have the right to carry on the Tendo Dojo!"  
  
In the Dojo, Ryouga was peacefully sulking.  
  
Or, to be more exact, he was being 'wistful.'  
  
No... really, he was just sulking.  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, he focused on his internal Ki equilibrium, as the slow music from the (Nabiki's) CD player next to him started on the next piece. It was a focusing exercise, meant to better control his body and spirit, and most importantly, calm his mind and organize his thoughts. His primary concern was getting his things together discretely, and making mental preparations for his little 'training trip.' Oddly, he found himself debating whether or not to take Ranma along.  
  
The pigtailed martial artist was still a major annoyance, but he was, in a way, a familiar annoyance. Perhaps, away from the eyes and opinions of others, the two of them could come to some sort of mutual agreement, a true peace to cement the cease-fire. Besides, if he was doing any actual training on the trip, it would... it could be helpful to have his only sparring partner along. He'd been thinking of an initial set of exercises and regimens, as well as a few special techniques to develop and refine, and having Ranma around for input and 'testing' would be a boon. On the flipside, nothing really beat the look of surprise on his rival's face when he came up with something new, and suddenly kicked up the bar a notch or two, forcing Ranma to catch up. That would be more difficult, or at the least, less exciting than training with his opponent.  
  
Train with Ranma?  
  
Train against Ranma?  
  
He found indecision plaguing him, as it always seemed to do. Ryouga was well aware that his indecision was one of his greatest faults, and the cause of many failings. Nabiki had pointed it out enough times, when they went out, and he couldn't decide where to go, or what to do, or even what to eat, so loathe was he to commit totally to anything...   
  
Which led into his next, worst, problem.  
  
Getting a break from his relationship with Nabiki, or maybe just getting away from the normalcy and pleasant complacency of it all. He'd always dreamed of what he had in her - she was smart, beautiful, and understanding, and even ruthless and willing to do what he himself would hesitate to do, even if he knew it needed to be done, or wanted to be done. She was strong where he was weak. But something was missing... some element of danger, uncertainty, and yes, a hint of terror. Maybe, truly, he was mad - mentally unbalanced in some way.  
  
It was something Ryouga had secretly always considered.  
  
Too many years lost, alone, in the middle of nowhere.   
  
Too many years driven by rage and anger.   
  
Too many years dreaming of what he knew, or even hoped, he could never have.  
  
Too many years being more an animal than a man.  
  
Like Taro, but worse. Ryouga hid his bestial side within, behind a curtain of blind aggression and blame. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that, sooner or later, the beast would break out, and cause more damage than he liked to think about.   
  
Taro was dead.  
  
At his hand.  
  
Whether he deserved it or not, Ryouga didn't care, not from a moral point of view. He had killed a man, and at the time, not only had he not cared that he was extinguishing a human life; he had enjoyed it... he had reveled in the revenge, and the passion of the moment. The times he'd tried to kill Ranma sprung to mind immediately, and passed through his thoughts like a cereal of photographs. Had he been beast or man when he'd done that? The lost boy wasn't sure.  
  
Eighteen years old, and already a killer.  
  
A killer... how deserving of happiness, of Nabiki, was an animal like himself? Really, who could ever want to be around him? He was dangerous, brooding, depressed, angry, lacked common sense, lacked a direction, had no close family, and he was a freak who turned into a pig when he got wet. A normal life? Who was he kidding? And yet... he wasn't always angry, or depressed or brooding - precious moments of happiness, of closeness and warmth. An alien feeling of caring, actual mutual caring, every time unexpected, and every time a small miracle in and of itself.   
  
"I need time to think," he whispered to himself, and noticed the dojo door open with some suspicion.  
  
"...Don't worry," Ranma spoke up, as he and Soun entered the room. "There's no way I'm going to lose!"  
  
"Something going on?" Ryouga stood up, and noticed Natsume and Kurumi filing in, and a fuming Tendo Akane, barely holding her personal demons at bay.  
  
"A challenge." Genma walked up to the lost boy and crossed his arms, saying no more. Ryouga had mixed feelings towards the father of his rival, none of them good. But there was a measure of respect, too - Ranma had learnt at least some of an Art called the Umisenken from watching his father, a while back. While not particularly powerful, in Ryouga's opinion, it was very interesting in premise, and given the specialization in it, both youths were fairly certain that it had an as yet unrevealed counterpart called the Yamisenken, which could potentially be far more powerful, relying on active techniques and not passive ones.  
  
Ryouga had even sparred with the elder Saotome a few times, and come away silently impressed. Genma was slower than Ranma, definitely, but a fraction stronger, and more experienced. And while he was easily distracted, and cowardly enough to shy away from being hit or roughed up, he wasn't nearly as flabby or out of shape as he looked. If he really got serious, he could be dangerous. Fortunately, Genma seemed to have left his fighting days behind him, preferring the comfort of Kasumi's cooking and a warm bed to a tough bout of training.   
  
"Hey!" Akane turned to Ranma-chan as they took their positions. "Why aren't you fighting as a boy?"  
  
"You can't expect me to fight a couple girls as a guy!" Ranma-chan thumbed her nose as the mere thought of it.  
  
"Don't hold back, Kurumi," Natsume warned, getting into a ready stance, her hand ready to reach for the rug beater holstered on her back. Kurumi just nodded, obviously not too happy with the situation.  
  
"Oh," Soun wailed, his face framed by twin waterfalls of tears. "Why is this happening?"  
  
Genma nodded slowly, approvingly, his arms crossed. "There is no fighting fate."  
  
"Don't hurt each other," Kasumi added, her gentle voice concerned.  
  
"Hey, Ranma!" Ryouga called out from where he stood, leaning against the wall.  
  
"Yeah, what?" Ranma-chan returned, impatiently.  
  
"How about some fight music? I've got a good track all lined up and everything. And I wouldn't underestimate Natsume and Kurumi if I were you... three hundred yen says you don't beat 'em until it's half over."  
  
"Really?" Nabiki reevaluated the two girls. "I'll take that bet... at one hundred yen."  
  
"Chicken?" Ryouga asked, sidelong.  
  
"No. I just don't know what the song is."  
  
"One fifty."  
  
Nabiki smiled, her lips pressed together in a mysterious, delightful way. He got the feeling she knew everything about him, and yet, what she knew she seemed to like. "One fifty it is. This better not be something really short, though, Hibiki."  
  
"Oh no. This is good fight music." Ryouga smiled. "Natsume, Kurumi! Don't hold back against Ranma here! And Akane-san, be careful!"  
  
"This isn't a game, you know!!" The youngest Tendo yelled at the two. Nabiki didn't seem to care, but Ryouga cringed a bit.   
  
"Play it." Nabiki nodded to the lost boy, and Ryouga started the CD player. "All right! Begin!"  
  
The match began with Ranma-chan making a leaping attack, aiming for Natsume, while Akane moved in more slowly, but recklessly, charging towards Kurumi.  
  
'Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me,'  
  
'I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed...'  
  
Kurumi's bow quickly unfurled into a ribbon whip, and with precision belying her age, and circled the weapon and shielded her older sister from attack. Ranma-chan tucked in as it hit, having underestimated the speed of her opponents, and unable to compensate in midair. The ribbon was hot, almost burning hot, but Ranma-chan recovered from the shock of it and landed on her feet; none the worse for wear.  
  
'She was lookin' kinda dumb with her finger and her thumb,'  
  
'In the shape of an "L" on her forehead...'  
  
Akane similarly ran into trouble, in the form of Natsume's rug beater. The older girl had her weapon in hand with the casual speed and ease that comes only from years of practice in a weapon, raising its use to the point of near instinct. More importantly, she was quick to charge it with Ki, a cold harsh Ki. A trio of swipes gave birth to a trio of freezing cold gusts of wind that stung Akane, and forced her back, grimacing from the pain and surprise of the attack.  
  
'Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming,'  
  
'Head to the rules and I hit the ground running,'  
  
'Didn't make sense not to live for fun,'  
  
'Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb...'  
  
"What's with that ribbon... it felt... hot?" Ranma-chan stood, rubbing her arms.  
  
"And Natsume's attack felt cold... like a razor sharp wind!" Akane balled her fists. "Let's try this again! I won't lose!"  
  
"You have odd choice in music, you know." Nabiki rose an eyebrow at the lost boy, but he seemed to be concentrating on the fight. Still, at least he didn't pick "Why Can't We Be Friends?' - that would have just been silly.  
  
In the middle of the dojo, meanwhile, Natsume stepped forward.  
  
"Time to finish this!" She spun, three times, her rug beater literally crackling with infused Ki. With a final motion, she flung the wind attack out, in the form of a chill tornado, kicking up the wooden ground where it passed. For a moment, Akane saw it coming, and froze up. Crossing her arms in front of her face, desperately, she braced to take the attack... when Ranma-chan moved, like a blur, and tackled her to the ground.  
  
"Idiot! Don't just stand there!" Ranma-chan quickly jumped back to her feet.  
  
"Leave me alone!" Akane shot back, getting to her feet. "I'm a martial artist, too, you know!"  
  
"This isn't about your stupid ego!" Ranma-chan growled and faced the pair. "Just let me handle this!"  
  
"It's my duty to win this fight!" Akane yelled, but Ranma didn't seem to be listening.  
  
'So much to do so much to see,'  
  
'So what's wrong with takin' the backstreets,'  
  
'You'll never know if you don't go,'   
  
'You'll never shine if you don't glow...'  
  
Soun's hair stood on edge, watching the disaster unfurl. Nabiki just sighed to herself. "This is no time for an argument, you idiots."  
  
"Kurumi!" Natsume commanded, turning to her younger sister. "Do it!"  
  
"Okay..." She agreed, reluctantly, and her ribbon lanced out in a great spiral. Ranma and Ryouga recognized what was going to happen almost instantly.  
  
"What's that?" Akane looked around the whipping ribbon, looking for a point to attack or defend. She was looking in the wrong place - the attack was coming through the middle.  
  
'Hey now, you're an All Star, get your game on, go play,'   
  
'Hey now, you're a Rock Star, get the show on, get paid...'  
  
"Musabetsu Kakutou Hiryu Carimbou!!" Natsume yelled, and a column of cold Ki spiraled through the hot of Kurumi's ribbon, funneled and directed by the clash of temperatures. Akane's eyes widened in obvious panic, but Ranma-chan simply took a step forward and to the side, before setting her feet, and bringing her arms to the side.  
  
'And all that glitters is gold,'  
  
'Only shootin' stars, break the mold,'  
  
"Hiryu..."  
  
Cold and hot danced between Ranma-chan's hands.  
  
"Shoten..."  
  
With a crack of thunder that left the air smelling of ozone, Ranma-chan's hands twisted in a small spiral in front of her, before her right palm shot forward.  
  
"HAAA!!!"  
  
'It's a cool place, and they say it gets colder,'  
  
'You're bundled up now, wait till you get older...'  
  
For a moment, the two forces clashed, all constrained within Kurumi's ribbon, before the latter snapped out, and the built up heat and cold mixed and diffused into the air. The resulting blast of displaced air knocked Kasumi and Nabiki off their feet, but Ryouga quickly shot his arms up to catch them before they hit the wall.   
  
'But the media men beg to differ...'  
  
"Again, Kurumi!" Natsume snarled, obviously worried now. "Full power! Hold nothing back!!"  
  
"But..."  
  
"But nothing!" She narrowed her eyes. "We can't lose! We WON'T lose!!"  
  
Wordlessly, Kurumi's ribbon glowed, and whipped out again, into a great spiral. As Natsume went through her movements, her rug beater blazing with a blue aura of its own, Ranma-chan was already, more slowly and deliberately now, building up for another Hiryu Shoten Ha. Ryouga watched, amazed, as the pigtailed martial artist funneled hot and cold Ki from around her, from the air, and from the last attack... recycling it into her aura and into her hands. He'd never say it to him, but Ranma was damn good when he set his mind to it.  
  
Damn good.  
  
'Judging by the hole in the satellite picture,'  
  
'The ice we skate is getting' pretty thin,'  
  
'The water's getting' warm so you might as well swim...'  
  
"Musabetsu Kakutou Hiryu Carimbou... Full POWER!!!"  
  
'My world's on fire, how about yours?'  
  
"Hiryu Shoten... YARI!!"  
  
'Cuz that's the way I like it and I never get bored...'  
  
Natsume and Kurumi's attack roared as it struck, like a solid pillar of glowing Ki, More impressive, to the lost boy at least, was that the younger girl, Kurumi, maintained enough control over her weapon and her Ki to narrow the beam, and further focus its energies. They were a formidable duo indeed, but badly outclassed against their pigtailed foe. It was the reason Ryouga hadn't been too worried about Akane getting involved - there was no way Ranma would let her get hurt. Ranma was easily fast, strong, and powerful enough to simply overwhelm Natsume and Kurumi, both of which Ryouga knew were tough in and of themselves, but given that they were, after all, just women, they had no real chance of victory. While Ryouga knew many very strong women, Ukyou and Shampoo most notably, and Cologne at an extreme end of the spectrum, he, like Ranma, didn't have quite as much respect for the opposite sex as he should have.   
  
And he didn't even have Genma to blame for it.  
  
Ranma-chan's right palm again thrust forward, and the spiral of her Hiryu Shoten Ha clashed with the adopted Tendo girls' beam almost instantly. For a moment spanning the blink of an eye, they seemed even, and then the insidious nature of Ranma's attack became obvious. The Hiryu Shoten Ha's spiral became like a corkscrew, and cut a swath through the Tendo girls' attack. In what seemed like slow motion, Kurumi's ribbon unraveled, bit by bit, releasing gusts of cold air, as Ranma's blast tore through it, and eventually, blasted Natsume and Kurumi themselves, who dove for cover just as it hit.  
  
'Hey now, you're an All Star, get your game on, go play,'   
  
'Hey now, you're a Rock Star, get the show on, get paid,'  
  
'And all that glitters is gold,'  
  
'Only shootin' stars, break the mold...'  
  
"I'd say that's the end of that." Ryouga looked from where Ranma-chan stood, hands on her hips, breathing slightly heavily, in front of Akane, to where Kurumi and Natsume lay, barely getting to their feet.  
  
"Is it?" Nabiki asked the two girls. Luckily, the Hiryu Shoten Ha had obviously lost power as it tore through their attack, or else it would have gone right into the house and torn half the structure up. Still, the good fortune of it didn't dampen the harshness in her voice at the two, which was really directed at all four of them. A lot of good 'winning' the dojo would be if they had to sleep in a destroyed house.  
  
Looking up at her, Natsume seemed tempted to go another round, exhausted though she already was. Kurumi, however, held up her hands, and dropped her ribbon. She sighed, and turned to Ranma and Akane. "We give up. Don't we, Natsume?"  
  
The older girl hesitated for a few seconds, apparently considering going another round, but eventually gave in.  
  
"Yes... we do."  
  
"Ha! I told you I'd win!" Ranma gave Soun, whose hysterics had died down somewhat, a thumbs up.  
  
"I'd say I won, too." Ryouga smirked. "You owe me..."  
  
"Ah!" Nabiki cut him off with a smile, "But we didn't discuss or agree on any payment plans, Ryo-kun. I think I'll pay mine in one hundred and fifty monthly installments over the next twelve and a half years."  
  
"What? I... Unbelievable." Ryouga shook his head, leaning heavily on the wall for support.  
  
'Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas,'  
  
'I need to get myself away from this place,'  
  
'I said yep, what a concept, I could use a little fuel myself,'   
  
'And we could all use a little change..."  
  
"Off you go." He put the player on 'stop' and looked around. Natsume was fuming, and so was Akane, who really hadn't played a part in Ranma's victory at all. Kurumi looked anxious (and hungry, but she always looked hungry), and Ranma-chan was bragging to a slowly weeping Soun and proud looking Genma. Nabiki was thinking about something, he couldn't tell what, and Kasumi was looking worriedly at the mess in the Dojo, her lips barely moving and obviously mentally going over all the work she'd have in store for her in the immediate future. It suddenly occurred to the lost boy that nothing had been resolved at all over the last few minutes.   
  
"Nothing at all," he mouthed, and locked eyes with Nabiki. By her expression, she had obviously realized the same thing.  
  
Wonderful.  
  
Getting away never seemed like a better idea.  
  
***  
  
Cologne was not oblivious to the world around her.  
  
Not hardly.  
  
She was aware.   
  
More importantly, she was amused. Watching Shampoo take care of the restaurant, and a lull in the cooking freeing up some time, allowed her a moment to sit back and muse. Her time in Japan was moving ever closer to running out - there had never been an intention to move here, only for a year or two. ...Only as long as it took to deal with things.  
  
Like Shan Pu, and her disgrace.  
  
When she had returned, the girl had been wise enough to keep her story to herself and go straight to her matriarch, and together they had easily kept it under wraps. When Cologne had heard her story, she had been more surprised than anything. That Shampoo hadn't even realized her quarry was actually a man until it was too late was vexing, as was the fact that she was so martially outclassed. The latter had been more vexing, really, given Shampoo's projected future status in the tribe as one of their 'preferred daughters.'   
  
It had also complicated matters.  
  
An outsider male hadn't been brought into the tribe in well over a decade, and hadn't stayed with the tribe in over twice as long. The current crop of Amazon males had been more disappointing than ever before, and Amazon leadership had been obviously stagnating in their isolation and apathy. It was a good opportunity to both evaluate the outsider male as an addition to the tribe, get to see Japan, which she hadn't been to before, disappointingly enough, and be away from the whining Elders of the Joketsuzoku, her infuriating rivals, and the multitudes of unworthy children mobbing her for training.  
  
So she had come to Japan.  
  
Within months, she had gotten a good look at Saotome Ranma - he was an unusually strong male, in more ways than one, and he also wasn't very cooperative, and while easy enough to trick and deceive, he was altogether impossible to *mold.* While it would, indeed, have been nice if he joined the tribe as Shampoo's groom, it was not of paramount importance. He was far too interested in the perfection of his Art, and in being manly... he was too Japanese, and too set in his ways to mesh with Amazon life, even if no one would have expected him to conform to Amazon male norms.  
  
But he brought an element of ...fun to the world that Cologne hadn't seen in some time. Dealing with him, and the situations in Nerima, was a constant form of entertainment, and at her age, entertainment was more precious than jewels. Additionally, there was the prospect that he could keep Happosai busy enough for her to get back some of the more important Amazon treasures he had in his perverted possession.   
  
Then she ran across Ranma's rival, one Hibiki Ryouga. He was, in many ways, Ranma's complete opposite. Lonely and starved for affection, not only was he easy to trick and deceive, but he could be well molded. He, like Ranma, was obsessed by the Art, and being 'the best,' or more accurately, simply beating Ranma... he was a far better choice for Shampoo, and for life among the Joketsuzoku Amazons. Physically, he was impressive as well, though the direction problem was a major one. He had been looking perfect for the part, until she looked more deeply into his family history, improving what she had heard of the Hibikis with what was documented and rumored.   
  
It had changed her mind quickly enough.  
  
If Shampoo had married him, and brought him back, the potential uproar and split among the Amazons could have been one of the most devastating things to occur in centuries. Plus, he was far less entertaining, she found, and had apparently settled in with the middle Tendo girl, an intelligent, though somewhat humdrum, prospect. Cologne really wondered if it would work out in the long term - Hibiki was a wanderer, his family and his nature wasn't one to be tied down. Then there were the consequences of being involved with him...   
  
Shaking her head, Cologne sighed, and saw someone new opened the door and walk in - a young girl, around Shampoo's age, but no one she knew. For a moment Cologne imagined she was a martial artist, and a good fight might break out, but the girl was no martial artist, though she was obviously fit and athletic. No longer really interested, she moved onto something new, knowing that a new order would be needed soon enough.  
  
Why was she here, aside from her own amusement, and as a well deserved and well earned vacation? She had already found a rival for Shampoo, in Ukyou, and shown her that she was far from the best that she could be... which had always been one of her goals, and she had introduced Shampoo to taking the initiative in trying to 'catch' Ranma, and given her the opportunity to try the same with Ryouga, though apparently Shampoo never got up the nerve to break the only true friendship she ever had with a male besides, in a way, Mousse.   
  
Cologne now knew that was for the best - a casual friendship with the Hibiki boy, and by extension, his family line, could be beneficial. The fact that Shampoo's 'marriage claim' to being beaten by Ranma could easily be contested and shot down in an Amazon Court, if need be, meant that she could avoid disgrace when the young man was finally cured, and the pigtailed girl no longer 'existed.' They would then return home, Cologne more relaxed, and Shampoo wiser... and with a handful of recovered Amazon artifacts, and outside contacts and allies, the perfect thing to catapult her great granddaughter's position within the tribe from being simply a great warrior, to a true leader.  
  
'Why is she smiling?' Shampoo thought to herself, noticing Cologne wore an unusual smile, before turning to her new customer. "Nihao! Welcome to Nekohanten! My name is Shampoo, what can ...I get for you?"  
  
Better. That sounded much better. Her practice and study was obviously paying off. The young woman looked at her menu, and for a moment, her nose wrinkled up.  
  
"There problem?" The Amazon prompted, her language skills slipping a bit.  
  
"Oh... no, just looked over some ...pork selections."  
  
"You no... you don't like pork?"  
  
"I'd never eat it, no." The girl tucked a few strands of bright pink hair behind her left ear. "The Vegetarian Ramen looks real nice. I think I'll have that. And a cold water... with lemon."  
  
"Okay!" Shampoo beamed, putting on her best customer-face. "I'll be back with your food very soon!"  
  
"Thanks." Unryu Akari watched her go, before leaning forward and resuming her depression, on cue. She thought back to her aging grandfather, and wondered whether following his advice was really the best course of action. It had been fun, really, for a while, but also very depressing in and of itself. Katsunishiki was unusually powerful, and for the last few months, she had nearly given up on finding a human fighter good enough to beat him in fair combat.  
  
Then, she'd read a short story in the newspaper about Nerima, and a large 'martial arts duel' that apparently did a good deal of damage to the area. It was only a hunch, really, from a small article, but it was the best lead she'd had on someone good enough to beat Katsunishiki, so she went for it. Furinkan High School seemed the best place to start, unless she ended up having to resort to finding a much older man. Unfortunately, Katsunishiki had made quick work of several groups of students, before a girl there set her up with a name and a phone number.  
  
She'd ended up talking to someone named Tendo Nabiki, who had the real information on all the local Martial Artists. It'd been expensive, really, paying through middlemen (middlewomen, actually), but the information had been a great boon and a timesaver. Looking down at the table, she slowly opened a small letter, and read it over for the hundredth time.  
  
"Dear Sir, I love you. Please go out with me. It's love at first sight." She shook her head as she read. It was far too corny to ever work. Still, information in hand, she decided to systematically go through the list of available Nerima martial artists until someone beat Katsunishiki. It seemed like a real good idea at the time.  
  
First had been a Chinese guy named 'Mu Tzu' or 'Mousse' who was supposedly very good, and not seriously seeing anyone anymore (though that was sort of iffy). She also remembered the name, because he'd dropped by her farm a while back and purchased a small piglet for someone. But he wasn't forecasted to be back from China anytime in the indefinite future, so she decided to keep trying for those actually around. There was a slightly older man, one 'Dr. Ono Tofu' who worked at a local Clinic, and skilled in Shiatsu and a number of similar things. There was also another guy, from another school, named Sanzenin Midako, and another person named 'Picolet Chardin the Second.' She managed to find both of them, but unfortunately (or fortunately) Katsunishiki dealt with both of them fairly soundly. Another guy named Tsubasa had actually attacked Katsunishiki, and subsequently gotten beat down pretty badly. Next had been one Kuno Tatewaki ...  
  
Akari groaned, and didn't even notice Shampoo come with the food.   
  
"That was fast." She checked the clock on the wall opposite her. "Very fast."  
  
"Great grandmother cook very fast." Shampoo put the steaming bowl of Ramen down with a cold glass of ice water, coupled with a single slice of lemon.  
  
"She's your great grandmother?" Akari looked at the old woman at the counter. "How old is she?"  
  
"Great grandmother is... one hundred and twenty something, maybe. ... I'm not too sure how old she is." Shampoo barely caught herself from reverting back to third person.  
  
"Are you serious? Over a hundred years old?"  
  
"Great grandmother powerful Amazon. Very strong." Shampoo beamed with pride.  
  
"Amazons... you mean like er... Mousse?"  
  
"You know stupid Mousse?"  
  
"Well, I heard a little about him." Akari blushed a bit. "I, uh... kind of came to Nerima looking for a ... boyfriend."  
  
"Many boys in Nerima... many boys everywhere."  
  
"Yes, but I need one that can beat Katsunishiki in combat. He's my family's fourteenth generation champion Sumo Pig."  
  
"Sumo Pig?" Shampoo seemed incredulous, and looked around, making sure there weren't any new or demanding customers (there weren't too many in at the moment anyway) before sitting down for a bit.  
  
"Sumo Pig." Akari nodded gravely. "About two meters tall at the shoulder, maybe four and a half meters from snout to tail... last time we weighted him, he was about three thousand five hundred kilos."  
  
Shampoo's eyes were a fair bit larger than before.  
  
"Three thousand five hundred kilograms?" She whispered, in awe. That's as large as a small elephant!  
  
"Yep. He's big, even for a champion Sumo Pig."  
  
"So... if strong man beat Pig, then he become your groom?"  
  
"Basically." Akari took a quick sip of the ice water, and savored the relaxing chill of it.  
  
"Shampoo... That is, my village has a similar tradition. If one of our warrior women is beaten in combat by a man, she much give him a Kiss of Marriage, and make him her groom."  
  
"Well?" Akari probed, curious. "Were you beaten?"  
  
Shampoo was a little slow to answer. "Yes... there many very strong men here. Two of them beat Shampoo."  
  
"Which ones?" Akari asked, wondering whether she had missed a few on the list that Tendo girl had given her.  
  
"One named Saotome Ranma. Other one named Hibiki Ryouga. Two strongest males... men in Nerima."  
  
"Really? Are they...?"  
  
"Tendo girls have them," Shampoo almost growled, but it was enough for Akari to pick up.  
  
"Tendos? That would explain why..." She trailed off. "Do you know someone named Kuno Tatewaki?"  
  
"Stupid stick boy?"  
  
"Er... yeah. You could call him that. Delusional arrogant stick boy would work, too." Akari sighed. "Looks like your great grandmother wants to talk to you, Shampoo."  
  
"Huh?" The Chinese girl turned around, and saw Cologne right next to their booth, perfectly balanced on her cane as always.  
  
"We have to discuss something." The old (ancient) woman scowled, her tone leaving no room for argument. Shampoo nodded and got up, following her to the back of the restaurant.  
  
"Thanks!" Akari called out, and Shampoo looked over her shoulder quickly, acknowledging that she'd heard her. Turning back to the food, Unryu Akari smiled. In the back, Cologne faced her great granddaughter.   
  
"Am I in...?"  
  
"No," Cologne cut her off. "And yes. I just got a call from the village."  
  
"Mousse?" Shampoo guessed.  
  
Cologne nodded, slowly. "It seems... they need someone to track him down. The Elders want you to do it, and I agreed."  
  
Shampoo scoffed. "Why would anyone want to find Mousse?"  
  
"Because..." Cologne seemed to search for the words. "Because he's..."  
  
***  
  
"There's our little spy! You look a little worse for wear, too."  
  
The cloaked man threw back his hood, revealing a broad smile and two prominent canine teeth. In the cold wind, his ponytail whipped up wildly. He clasped his newly met companion on the shoulder, and gave him a vigorous shake.  
  
"Yes, well." Pantyhose Taro shrugged off the man's hand, his arms defiantly crossed. "I had a little... run in with some people."  
  
"Military?"   
  
Taro laughed. "Not at all! Just some losers."  
  
"Yeah, well, it looks like one of those losers tagged you pretty badly."  
  
Sumac reached up and pointed to the side of his face. Taro scowled, and ran his fingers down the side of his face, along the jagged scar that ran from just above the edge of his right temple, past the side of his eye, and down his cheek. He then snarled, and pulled his hand back.  
  
"I let my guard down." Taro said no more on the subject. "It was personal business anyway, of no real concern to you, or anyone else."  
  
"You did, I trust, find what you were sent for?"  
  
"The artifacts are where they're supposed to be. I've got the list tucked away safe and sound."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"In here." Taro tapped the side of his head. "Photographic memory, remember?"  
  
"Yes, yes." Sumac chuckled. "We're all very impressed."  
  
"You should be," Taro grumbled, and then spoke up a bit more. "Things are progressing...?"  
  
"On schedule. All you need to do is play your part in things." Sumac closed his eyes briefly as they walked up the path. "Lord Herb seems quite anxious to hear your report on the Joketsuzoku and the outside world."  
  
"Well... my beloved half brother will have to wait." Taro snorted. "I intent to eat first, and talk later."  
  
"Your choice. I wouldn't keep him waiting too long, though. His new pet woman has been frustrating him of late, and when he is frustrated, Lord Herb gets... edgy."  
  
"Che." Taro tone dismissed the threat. "As if I care... wait... Pet woman? When was this?"  
  
Sumac frowned and looked into the distance. "A minor thing. She won't get in the way."  
  
"She had best not." Taro smiled after a few seconds.  
  
"Lychee is keeping her occupied, among others."  
  
"Lychee!" Taro gasped in recognition. "I almost forgot about the meeting! How did it go?"  
  
"Quite well, from what I heard. Plans are already underway, the armories have been opened, and the Smithing fires stoked... Togenkyou is soon to be in the process of shipping men and material, handled by The Society, of course, while at least a few, if not all, of the Lucky Gods will be participating as well."  
  
"A few? Prince Kirin cannot be allowed to sit on the sidelines! Wasn't Lychee...?"  
  
"Let the woman work, Pantyhose. She knows her job."  
  
"Don't call me that, Sumac. I'm warning you..."  
  
The Wolf Musk held up his hands innocently.  
  
"I had to say it. At least once."  
  
Taro's frown returned in force. "It's bad enough I have to take abuse from Herb, I don't need it from you, too."  
  
The two men trekked up the mountain, through a pass, and progressed up the slope, as it steady defined into steps, until they came to the heavy wood and iron doors of the Musk fortress. Pausing at it, Taro looked up and around the great keep, some obvious anxiousness holding him at bay. Putting his hand to the door, and knocking soundly, he turned to his companion.  
  
"You and your friends had better not be double crossing me, Sumac."  
  
"Really, Taro... you should know better." The man smiled back, amiably. "Who can you trust, if not us?"  
  
"Sumac... you don't want me as an enemy..."  
  
"Taro... Taro! Put your mind at ease!" The Musk warrior leaned in closer. "Everything is going... flawlessly. In a few weeks time, the Phoenix Tribe will be broken and beaten beyond recovery, the Joketsuzoku will be nothing more than a smoldering ash pile of a village, its people finally dealt with... We'll be top dogs again, Taro. Think about that."  
  
"And my name...?" He insisted.  
  
"Such a little thing." Sumac 'hmfed.' "But that too."  
  
The great doors opened, and the two entered. 


	7. Learning Curve part 22

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXII (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
1974  
  
Soryn Pass  
  
The clatter of hooves brought the men to attention, and many looked up at their liege lord with bloodshot eyes. Weariness aside, at the approach of his envoy, they stood to the last man, heads bowed. Behind the King rode the young Prince, and his two adult bodyguards, formerly the King's. Normally, the boy would have been given a new set of his own, but every able warrior was needed elsewhere.   
  
Stopping his horse, the King dismounted, the hard cold ground giving an almost audible crunch at his landing. For a moment, he looked to the east, where signal fires burned in the distance. King Herb felt the horse's tension, despite his words, and ran a hand down its back. "Steady, Huansan. Steady."  
  
The King was a tall man, even among the taller-than-normal Musk, and no sooner had he dismounted, than an overdressed female servant from his entourage ran to his side, struggling with a set of armor. On his own horse, the Prince shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing, watching instead as the heavy lead and iron armor, designed to defend against Ki attacks, identical to that of a common Musk soldier, was strapped onto his father, over the regal dragonscale, gold, and white of the Dynasty of the Dragon.  
  
"King Herb, a pleasure to see you once again, my Lord," A man said as he approached the King, and gave a deep bow.  
  
"Paso Li," King Herb returned as he inclined his head, both as a gesture of acknowledgement to speak, and to allow the dressing servant to take his long weave of white hair in hand, and out of the way, as his circlet helmet was fitted over the King's brow. The other man was a dark skinned fellow, compared to most other Musk. His face twitched as he spoke, and the nervousness in his hands and body gave him the appearance of perpetual being 'up to something,' as the young Prince would say. Paso Li, or Parsley, was of the Rat Blood line, and acted the part well. A warrior he was not, but he had a keener mind for strategic games than most Musk, who couldn't easily think nonlinearly. While Herb preferred his three Warmasters to inspire their troops from the front, it was not a prerequisite.  
  
"My Lord, it pleases me to see you here, so soon, and in person," Parsley spoke softly, as always. "It will be a great boost in morale for the men, my Lord."  
  
"Have you confirmed the presence of the Phoenix Demon himself? He is the reason I am here."  
  
"Our scouts have reported that he personally marches at the head of fully a third of his entire Air Corp, freshly flown in from the south. Things have changed dramatically over the last two days with his arrival."  
  
"So he is present, in the fire and in the flesh!" King Herb snorted, derisively. "I will counter his threat myself. What of the rest of his forces?"  
  
"As you know, his conscript army broke apart into four main columns during the march here. I... We believe he may be dividing them into waves for the coming assault - perhaps as many as ten, not including his reserves. Most likely he will hold those back to guard his rear and support structures, as well as the base camp established to the northeast of Soryn Mountain, in case he needs to make a tactical withdrawal."  
  
"And his other Air Corp?"  
  
"Patrol and skirmishing, mostly. We believe it will be mainly harrying attacks to our north... we have already moved several additional contingents of auxiliary troops and archers to cover our northern flank."  
  
"That concerns me," herb held out his left hand, and the dressing servant quickly started affixing a gauntlet to his left forearm bracer.  
  
"My Lord? I should think that this would come as good news?"  
  
"If Saffron is not deploying assault assets to the north, he surely means to smash his way through with conscripts. He would not risk so much, were he not confident of victory."  
  
"I know your troubles, my Lord. But rest assured, my scouts have not reported the arrival of any Phoenix artillery in the region."  
  
"And you do not find that odd, Paso Li?" For the first time Herb's tone bordered on the annoyed. "Saffron would not put forward an infantry assault, through the center and across Soryn Pass no less, unless he had his artillery."  
  
"We saw none, Lord. Nor have we been under bombardment ourselves, though opportunity allowed it."  
  
"What of the Lucky Gods? Where is King Lager?"  
  
"Aboard his Airship, my Lord. To our southwest."  
  
"In position?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord..."  
  
"And the Amazons?"  
  
"They..." The weasel-like man stuttered for a moment. "They er... have not arrived on the field, as yet, my Lord."  
  
"They are still marching from Athenon?" Herb tightened the strap on his right bracer, and dismissed the servant attending to him. His armor was affixed, and the servant would only be getting in the way from this point on.  
  
"I do not know, my Lord. We have not received word from them in some time. I sent a pair of runners to check down the valley road, but they report there is no movement of troops through those passes."  
  
"Those damn Amazons... late to everything."  
  
This news Herb had not heard of, though the tone in his voice downplayed that fact. King Herb knew well of most of the soon to occur battle's layout and the forces involved already. He had been hoping to draw Saffron away from Soryn with himself as bait, but the Phoenix god had truly little care for vendettas over victories, and continued apace. It was why he had made from the skirmishing at Chalsun with such haste. Conversing with Paso Li now was a formality, to fill him in on anything he had missed on the trip to the battlefield. This news, that the Amazons were not present as expected, was a surprise indeed.  
  
"Apparently, my Lord."  
  
The sycophant hung around the Dragon King, perhaps worried that the offensive news had angered him, and nodded quickly. Herb largely ignored his behavior, and took a few experimental steps forward. The armor was heavy, a good seventy pounds by itself, but he was a large man, and physically stronger than most - King Herb was more concerned about freedom of movement, but that was only a concern in close combat. Besides, it wasn't the first time he'd worn it, and, barring good fortune, it wouldn't be the last. He quickly turned on the servant woman and bodyguards, and pointed at the Prince.  
  
"Take him back to the rear line, out of mortar range," The King said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Herb looked quickly from his young son, to his men, down the long row of weary Musk warriors. There were his medium troops - armored as he was, and armed with an assortment of weaponry. The majority of them wielded swords for close ranges, and glaives for reach, all of superior Musk manufacture. These fearless men were the core of the Musk forces, both here and elsewhere - good, general-purpose warriors; the kind that traced their traditions of warfare back a dozen millennia.   
  
It was no secret that the Musk, because of the gifts of their mixed heritage, and the intensity of their training, were the premier fighters in the region, indeed... they were, on average, the greatest in the world. They were feared by the Amazons, and respected by the Lucky Gods and innumerable other vassals and descendant organizations. At the height of Asian Musk power, at the end of the Seventh Dynasty, they had ruled nearly all the continent through the Khans, with whom they had made a pact in 1287 for the grand design of curbing Islamic power in the Near East and gaining revenge for the fall of the ancient Sertu Musk Dynasty in Egypt. Herubu the Second's Musk warriors, acting as Royal Guards, had marched as far as ancient Prag in the northwest, Java in the south, Nippon in the east and the Sinai in the southwest.   
  
The current King passed his trooped in review, and saw a sea of Musk iron and steel back by History and Tradition, the living will of their rightful Dragon Lord. Though these Musk medium infantry were not as heavily armed or armored as the Assault troops King Herb passed earlier, and held in reserve, nor as light and fast as his scouts or auxiliary corps, they did not have to be. The enemy would come to them, and crash themselves to bits in the process.  
  
That was how it had always been, since the Beginning.  
  
Recently, however, things had changed. Passing by the assembled warriors, he noted a few bullet wounds - the result of a new weapon introduced in grand fashion just months earlier. Snipers, armed with heavy caliber rifles. They were perhaps the most dangerous troops in Saffron's army, and the Phoenix 'God' had been careful to groom and nurture his young Airborne Sniper Corp. Musk were nothing if not tough, however, and Herb reassessed his previous position. The wounds were, most likely, due to smaller rounds from Conscript machine pistols, or some such.  
  
The...the name slipped his mind for the moment - it was a foreign weapon, however: one of many firearms to have fallen into the hands of Saffron's slave-warriors. Though unable to fight in close quarters, Saffron's peon army made up for that failing with sheer numbers and fanatical zeal. Under the influence of the surikami eggs, entire villages had been wiped out and conscripted to serve Saffron, their new God and King. These poor peasant men and women would charge into the face of death itself, happily throwing away their lives at the Will of Saffron.   
  
King Herb nearly spat in disgust.  
  
"How many attacks have the garrison thrown back, Paso Li? It was two, last I heard before leaving Chalsun."  
  
"Two more light probing attacks earlier today, my Lord." The Rat Blood Musk rubbed his hands together as they walked and talked. "I cycled out many of those in the garrison, as you see have no doubt seen for yourself, after the third wave, and replaced them with fresh warriors shortly before I heard of your arrival."  
  
"Hmm." Herb nodded, slowly. "Casualties?"  
  
"Ours or theirs, my Lord?"  
  
"Both," he replied, after a moment.  
  
"Only three dead, my Lord. ...And thirty six wounded, from all four attacks," The shorter Musk adjusted the strap around his neck attached to his light armor as he talked. "We have counted one hundred and twelve enemy dead. The wounded would not be taken prisoner."  
  
Not truly surprising. Individually, the average Musk was a formidable opponent, and in groups properly organized and trained as a unit, they were terrifying, but the Dynasty had always lacking somewhat in numbers. Even the relatively numerous medium troops were, under normal circumstances, not what anyone would consider 'expendable.' All Musk life was precious, but what did they live for, if not to fight, and in the end, to die? Surely, the enemy had no respect or care for its own life. Saffron's mindless slaves would gladly tear out their own tongues before questioning his orders.  
  
"And their weapons?"  
  
"Some rifles, pistols... numerous swords of dubious quality... why do you ask, my Lord?"  
  
"Simple curiosity. Saffron has kept his forces well supplied, despite our best raiding efforts..." King Herb said, stopped, and looked out over Soryn Pass, from the slight ledge they were at. It was a deep chasm, a crack in the earth between mountains, straight drops down who knew how far. The only point where it could be passed was the great mortar less stone bridge that spanned the gorge. Built centuries ago by the Musk, it was also a small fortress on either end: a single tower blocking entry to those unknown or unwanted by the Musk in their domain. A series of steps, hewn out of the rock, led down to a flat area, and from there to the West Tower, where Herb could see warriors milling about the parapet, waiting for the attack they all knew would come.   
  
Straining his neck, and looking around a steep cliffside to his left, the King could also just see the tip of the Fortress Airship of the Seven Lucky Gods. It was a truly impressive sight, more so when seen in full sails. It was simply an amazing construct: a ship, several hundred feet long, magically crafted and held together, and given flight by a similarly created balloon. It resembled a Chinese junk, overall, though the Lucky Gods had repainted it in shades of blue, to better mask it against the sky from below. Well armed, relatively, and very well armored, even the balloon part, the Airship would cement their southeast flank.   
  
"For too long, we've been pulling back, and withdrawing, and retreating... by the gods... the real gods, we stop Saffron here, Paso Li. We give no more ground to this... perversion," The elder Herb hissed through clenched teeth, but kept his voice low. "There are over fifteen villages behind us. I won't have them fall to these Phoenix animals! I won't!"  
  
"Scorched Earth, my Lord?"  
  
"...If need be, yes. The men will carry it out loyally, if it comes to that."  
  
"A sad thing, indeed... Schulzu, Anozou." Parsley stopped listing names of villages no longer found on the map.  
  
"I won't put that idea in their heads unless absolutely necessary. Slaughter before capture is not a policy I want to be remembered for." Herb's sharp eyes picked up movement, to the east, almost like a moving cloud against the mountain background. "No. It won't come to that course of action, Paso Li. ...Ready the men. They will hold, or they will die, but they will not retreat with their tails between their legs like the beaten dogs Saffron believes us to be."  
  
Beyond the range of his eyes, King Herb felt more than saw the approaching storm. Saffron himself was moving forward, not content here to simply watch the battle unfold, and only the Musk King, only the Dragons' blood, could counter the power of the monster. Only he could abate the momentum of the Phoenix Lord. It was both the dragon's duty, and his curse.  
  
***  
  
When Ukyou was a little girl, she had heard tales of Princes on white horses, carrying off their chosen loves to a life of wealth and marital bliss. She was beginning to suspect that the people who actually wrote that crap didn't know what they were talking about. Not one damn iota.  
  
"This is a waste of time." Ukyou sighed.  
  
"Come now, my woman... Court duties may be dull, but there will soon be enough battle to go around." Herb shifted a bit on his throne. He wasn't nearly as comfortable with administrative duties as his father, or his grandfather, had been. Musk Lords of the dragon blood were of two varieties, the patient judicators, and the hot-blooded warriors. Of the two, Prince Herb was the latter. His father, the Great King Herb, had somehow been both.   
  
A great man in life, as well as in death.  
  
"I told you not to call me that," Ukyou seemed about to continue, but decided to simply save her words for later. Herb was obviously relieved not to lose face further by arguing with her in his own Court.  
  
"Let us move onto other business. What of our preparations for war, Borage?" Herb said as he leaned forward a bit. The throne was not nearly as comfortable as it seemed to be. Ukyou's was better - the 'Queen' of the Musk was a non-existent title. She was, supposedly, the first mate of the King. She technically had no power, no status, and no say in things, no rank even above other females, mated or unmated. Her only station came from him. Her 'throne,' which was more of a couch, was behind, below, and to the left of the King. It was not a place Herb wanted to ever find himself in, but at least it looked comfortable. Then again, at least he didn't have to stand like everyone else.  
  
"They continue apace, my Lord." Borage was Herb's chief advisor, and the oldest living Musk. After the sacrifice of Herb the Fourth more than twenty years ago, Borage had assumed the Regency until the young Herb the Fifth was old enough to rule. The elderly Musk faced Sumac and another Musk, shorter and with a less confident air to him, as he continued to speak, "Do they not, Warmaster Sumac, Warmaster Clove?"  
  
"I do have some fresh news both good and bad," Sumac answered for the two of them as he stepped forward towards the center of the circular hall. Of the two designated Warmasters for the future campaign, besides Herb himself, Sumac was the most bold and eager to voice his opinions. "Our forges, smiths and scribes have been working nearly without pause to fully ready our forces. Problems over actual manpower numbers remain a great concern... we have not the numbers we did during the last great campaign. As such, it has been a primary goal to outfit our warriors with the finest equipment, and while our surplus from years past more than covers our needs on paper, in practice it has proven more difficult. Organization of logistics is also a concern..."  
  
"This is preposterous!" Another Musk from the opposite end of the hall interrupted, "An insult! All this concern over... food, over horse feed! Our warriors are the finest on earth, their hearts filled with zeal and honor to defend our Ways and our Arts!"  
  
"Logistics remains a concern," Sumac continued, ignoring the outburst. "We have begun to improve on the situation, due to the aid of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society... and a slow but steady influx of Togekyou troops has helped bolster the situation in regards to our numbers, but overall, things are behind schedule."  
  
"Behind schedule? Things were on track two days ago, when last we spoke of this, Sumac. Borage, I was not fully aware of this... why?" Herb growled, letting his disdain be obvious. Ukyou knew Herb had involved himself in the minutiae of things, and even enjoyed it somewhat, but very recently he had taken time off to meditate and court his 'mate,' much to her chagrin. Apparently he was paying for it, now.  
  
"We did not wish to lay the burden of such trivial things on your shoulders, Lord Herb. It is, regardless, a minor matter, one which was to be resolved later today." Sumac gave a short, flowing bow and differed slightly to the shorter Musk, Clove, in an obvious effort to divide the Dragon Lord's censure more equally. His long ponytail draped over his right shoulder, the handsome confident Musk looked far removed from his younger brother, Mint.  
  
"Trivial or not, it resides within my domain. ... Borage?" Herb frowned, deeply.  
  
"My apologies as well." The ancient minister gave a less showy, but more honest, bow, as he apologized. "The situation was primarily due to increased patrols following extended routes... around the Jyusenkyou area, into the Valley... beyond where we normally go."  
  
"We dare not cut the numbers of men we send on each patrol, my Lord," The shorter Musk accompanying Sumac spoke up, quickly, "Nor the numbers of patrols themselves."  
  
Sumac gave a soft laugh. "Patrols in force will only further alarm the Joketsuzoku. As it is, I have no doubt that they suspect our involvement in something major. Our Intelligence reports, as do those of the Society, substantiate a mobilization on their part. Possibly part of a simple retraining, in which case I am simple being alarmist, or it could even be in preparation for one of their outlandish coven ceremonies... their motives are unknown to me, for one. I would, however, be more comfortable assuming the worst - that they are preparing for us."  
  
"I see," herb said, slowly. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard stone of his throne.  
  
"The good news, Sumac, if you would. This Court has heard enough of the former," Borage's deep voice rumbled in the hall. The old man made it no secret that he and Sumac disagreed on a great many topics. The younger Musk was far more radical in his thinking than most.  
  
"As you wish, Honored Minister." Sumac cleared his throat. "As I said, our... noncombatant elements have been working feverishly, and unit training and exercises have entered stage three. The Togenkyou regular units we are keeping segregated, at the moment, while they work up to par... additionally, great progress has been made in moving normal Musk noncombatants to the war units, and supplementing their former activities with non-Musk labor. This labor has come from both Togenkyou, the Society, and from a few neighboring villages, following the protocols you yourself put down, my Prince."  
  
"Go on," herb prompted, not wooed by Sumac's words.  
  
"Fortress and emplacement reinforcement and defenses are at their final stages, ahead of our timetable... and outfitting of predicted forces is nearly complete. Our heavy assault divisions will be ready for full action and deployment within twelve days. Standard divisions will be ready in six, Light divisions in seven, and Auxiliaries in nine. The status of our Lucky God allies is also pleasant news... retrofitting of their airship was completed earlier today. Bishamonten reports that it should be more than capable of delivering, supporting, and commanding an entire Standard division of warriors by itself, with minimal logistics support. He is of the opinion that the ship could even support Two divisions into the field of battle, if pressed, though only for one third of the time."  
  
"Roughly following the Timetable." Borage tapped his staff onto the marble floor. "Is there more, Sumac, or are you finished? Much of this is bordering on what we already know."  
  
"Er... no." He took a step back. "That is all if importance, Prince Herb. Minister Borage. Despite some setbacks, we shall be ready to move when needed. Our blades will be sharp, our armor strong, and our warriors ready."  
  
"I should hope so." Herb dismissed him with a quick nod. "Lastly, let me hear from ...Pantyhose. I wish to hear from my dear little brother, now that he is so well rested from his arduous quest overseas. Perhaps he can confirm some of Sumac's statements in regards to the Amazons from his vast pool of knowledge...?"  
  
"Little brother?" Ukyou asked, but kept her voice low. A tall Musk stepped forward. He had loose pants, dragonscale vest type outfit on, similar to Herb's, but obviously more worn, and less ornate, without shoulder pads or the like. He had delicate features similar to the Dragon Prince, as well. Though the scar on his face seemed very out of place. As he walked, and bowed, very shallowly, he started talking about Japan and Musk interests and Intelligence on the surrounding area.   
  
"With all due respect, my liege." Taro sneered just slightly at the word, shortly after moving from Musk interest in Japan to the Amazon situation. "You... We have not been as subtle as we should have been in organizing things so quickly. The word among the Joketsuzoku is that they were tipped off some time ago, most likely by the appearance of the Lucky Gods airship in a region so far from Nekonron."  
  
Herb scoffed softly. "Then their preparedness is still not up to par."  
  
"Nooo," Taro drawled, "No, it isn't... but it will be. Some time ago, their Matriarch and head of the Council of Joketsuzoku Elders returned. Shortly afterward, my ...male contacts within the village were herded into Containment Posts, and contact was lost with my sources. It is my conclusion that the Amazons are at a high state of alert... a sort of collective PMS, if you will. Given time, Joketsuzoku will properly fortify."  
  
Herb rubbed his index finger and thumb together in slow circles.  
  
"My Lord?" Taro asked, again, more irritated.  
  
"Let them fortify," herb repeated, louder this time.  
  
"Let them fortify, Lord?" Borage said, unsure.  
  
"Let them fortify. The Joketsuzoku have always been a craven, insular bunch... they will not stick their necks out for anyone around them, nor will they truly act against anyone unless it directly threatens them. Time is on our side, not theirs."  
  
"You don't understand, my..."  
  
"Be silent, Pantyhose," herb spoke, and his lips curled into a shallow smile as Taro fumed silently. "They are cowards, and shall act as such. All you need do is verify that fact for me."  
  
"But..."  
  
Herb leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slowly.  
  
"Of course." Taro composed himself and gave a quick bow. "They aren't a concern to us yet."  
  
"A wise man lets the fly land, before he swats it." Herb leaned back again, and the room calmed notably. "Pantyhose, you need only concern yourself over the location of certain artifacts, and outside intelligence in respect to Amazon movements. Tell me of what they do, when they do it, but do not color your analysis of them with... personal bias."  
  
There was a short bout of laughter from more than a few Musk present.  
  
Taro backed down, glowering at the ground fiercely. "I wouldn't think of it, my Liege."  
  
"Good." Herb clapped his hands together and stood up, signaling an end to the Court session. "Good... the Court may disperse. Borage. Make the appropriate adjustments to the agreed upon schedule, and forward them to the Lucky Gods at your convenience. Tell Bishamonten that I will wish to speak to him later today, as well, regarding our Togenkyou allies."  
  
"Yes, Lord Herb." Borage gave a differential bow to the dragon prince, and a curt nod to Ukyou, who was stretching after also standing up. As she did so, more than a few Musk, all of them at least several years her senior, curtly looked away. Herb just stared. It was something she was almost used to, at this point. Next to her, Mint hastily looked away, hiding a fierce blush, instead focusing on the armband he now wore, and its crest, symbolizing his official adjustment of activities from Herb's bodyguard, to Ukyou's. He still had mixed feeling about the assignment, and whether it was a good thing or a bad thing...  
  
Then again, Lime had been transferred to the Heavy Assault division. He had a high-ranking position there, but he too had technically lost status when Herb dismissed the need for personal bodyguards. Looking back at his charge, he saw Ukyou give him a quick smile and a pat on the back.  
  
"Not particularly fun, huh?" She asked, frankly.  
  
"Umm... nope," Mint answered in fairly good Japanese, despite being more than a little nervous. His heart always got a bit jumpy when she acknowledged his presence. Nervousness with women, he figured, but it wasn't unreasonable given that he hadn't even seen one until less than a month ago.  
  
"What was with Herb and that other guy... his brother?"   
  
She also noticed that this 'brother' of Herb's that she had never heard of before was sort of familiar, in a way. More than the simple arrogance Herb generally exhibited, this Musk seemed to just be cockier - the sort of attitude that was unwarranted, coming from anyone who served another man. He reminded her of Ranma, in more than a few ways. Off hand, she wondered what kind of sparks would fly if the two ever met. The passing resemblance had caught her attention.  
  
"Half brother," Mint corrected, quick to defend his liege. "And it is not really my place to say."  
  
"You could ask me yourself," herb cut in. Mint backed off a bit, giving the two of them room.   
  
"And you could stop calling me 'my woman,'" Ukyou addressed the dragon prince with a disrespectful tone. At the least, it was disrespectful compared to the way people usually addressed him.  
  
"But you ARE my woman!"  
  
"You're such a jerk, you know that?" Ukyou made a quick swing at him, but Herb saw it coming, and caught her hand easily. Examining the small fist in his palm, he looked at her without any hint of reprimand. Leaning in, he said something softly, and Ukyou calmed a bit. Mint had to fight to keep from trying to listen in.  
  
"It just annoys me... you know?" She said softly, responding to something Mint hadn't caught.  
  
"I know. But it's expected. I must keep form." Herb's eyes looked to his right, and caught Mint standing at attention. "Mint, you may take a break. Get some practice in. Find something to do. I will take my mate to the gardens for a brief talk, and escort her back to the women's dormitory."  
  
"But my duty..."  
  
"Your duty is to follow the will of your Lord and King, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord," Mint said and stood at attention. "I will return to my duty in... some hours."  
  
"That would be fine." Herb's voice was firm, and Mint gave Ukyou a quick questioning look without even thinking.  
  
"I can fend off this jackass for an hour or so," Ukyou said, confidently, though none-too seriously, and Mint hastily left. She'd grown used to the younger boy being around her over the last two weeks. He was usually very quiet, kind of shy, but eager to please both her, and Prince Herb. When she'd heard about it, and given what she knew about Musk society, she'd thought he'd be bitter about the assignment, but if Mint was, she sure hadn't seen any evidence of it.  
  
Herb's expression softened slightly when no one was around, and he moved in a little closer to her as they walked out of the hall in silence. She was fairly comfortable with some level of closeness between them - Herb was, by and large, a gentleman when no one else was around, though he still had a bad habit of staring at her chest. But nice as he could be in private, or on the walks they went on together, or even when he secretly trained her to better use her Ki, he was still a jerk in public. He'd never said as much, but she knew he had a difficult time following in his father's footsteps, and living up to the man's image.   
  
She wasn't sure, however, whether everyone thought that, or just Herb.  
  
"So... I didn't know you had a brother," she began, trying to make conversation, as the light from outside hit them, and they entered the Courtyard.  
  
"I don't."  
  
"What do you mean, you don't? What about that guy...?"  
  
"Pantyhose is not my brother." Herb shook his head, but seemed to smile at the name. "My father took a mistress some time ago. An Amazon mistress, during the war with Saffron... the Dragon blood flows weakly in Pantyhose's veins. He is a half Musk... a bastard child, full of himself, unworthy of the Musk Throne."  
  
"If you don't like him so much, why have him around?"  
  
"To please others," herb growled, any sort of humor gone from his features. "Sumac seems to have an interest in his fighting ability... Borage believes it is improper and against Tradition to exclude him entirely if he has the blood of our line, and quite correctly so, I suppose... mostly I suffer his presence because he spends more time outside these walls than anyone else. He has information and ways of getting information independent of the Jyusenkyou Society, who, being non-natives, I do not entirely trust."  
  
"But you trust him?"  
  
"No." Herb shrugged. "Not really... he is Musk, however. His loyalties lie with his sovereign, as it is always so. I don't like him, and I have no doubt that he is jealous of my power and status, but he would not defy me."  
  
Ukyou gave a questioning look.  
  
"No one would dare betray me... and betray our thousands of years of tradition. The very notion is foolish." Herb crossed his arms furiously, and the two made their way down a flight of marble steps to the lowest terrace in the Courtyard, reserved for a large garden. The place was strangely humid and warm, given their altitude and location. Many of the flowers looked quite exotic, different from the plain looking bushes and scrubs common in the area.  
  
"He's also half Amazon?"  
  
Herb scowled at that, and Ukyou didn't probe any further. She knew Herb had personal problems with what passed for his 'family,' that he alone had to deal with them. He had no mother, from what she had heard from Borage, and the young Herb was raised by his father and by his tutors before he took the throne. His age was a shock too, given that he didn't look over thirty at all.   
  
"Those... those damn Amazons..." Herb finally said, "Why must they hassle me so?"  
  
"Herb... maybe..."  
  
"I am not calling off the attacks, Ukyou-san," he said as he sat down on a small bench. "Things have gone too far to call off. And it's for the best. You have no idea what the Joketsuzoku and Phoenix are capable of."  
  
"I've heard." She sat down next to him, a bit nervously. "I've heard stories, but maybe attacking them isn't the answer..."  
  
"If we wait, and if we do nothing... the Musk will be overwhelmed. My father ruled the Eleventh Dynasty at the height of our power, bolstered by Musk from the fallen Tribes... in Egypt, and the Americas." Herb sighed. "He had heard tales of terrible wars fought around the world, and he balked at getting involved in one of his own. By the time he finally moved against Saffron, the war cost us terribly... I won't make the same mistake! I won't!"  
  
"But you haven't even tried talking to the Phoenix..."  
  
"I have heard, and seen, all I need to know of them and their ways! Their plans to mature Saffron early... it can only be a prelude to war."  
  
"Still... to hear Borage speak of it, that Saffron may not be this Saffron..."  
  
"My mind is set, Ukyou-san... as are those of my people and my allies. Borage cannot sway me. No one, not even you, can sway me against what must be done. Though... I did... I do want to ask you... talk to you about something else." He blushed.  
  
"No."  
  
"But I haven't even said it!"  
  
"I know what you're going to say." She looked away, hiding her own slightly flushed face. "The answer is no."  
  
Herb grumbled something and looked at his feet.  
  
"You really do have a one track mind, don't you?" She gave him a very fast look. "It's like every other day..."  
  
"But I need to! The line needs to go on, even if..."  
  
"Look, I haven't even been to college yet, and we're not anything close to being married! There's no way I'm... I'm... you know!" Ukyou didn't even mention that she had two more years of education before she could apply for an athletic scholarship. Once out of Furinkan, she'd have her choice of universities. Lately, she'd been considering business, or even marketing. Something to really help improve the family trade and bring in some substantial money.  
  
"Why? You'll never find another mate as strong, or powerful, or with so great a bloodline as I!"  
  
"That's all you Musk think about! Ukyou fumed, and looked him in the eyes. "Sex and fighting!"  
  
"...So?"  
  
"What do you mean, 'So?' So what about the rest of the world? So what about getting a job? What about finding someone you love?"  
  
"Unimportant, unnecessary, and superfluous." Herb ticked the three off on his fingers. "Musk do not concern themselves with such things. I... I like you a lot, Ukyou-san. You are a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman, of fine Blood and Spirit. But Musk do not 'love.'"  
  
Ukyou felt like clobbering him but controlled herself. The Musk culture was several worlds removed from the rest of humanity. They'd had this conversation or something like it, a dozen times already. Weird it was, but it worked for them, and it wasn't like she was planning on actually staying at his 'mate,' anyway. On that topic, she pressed forward.  
  
"When can I go home, Herb?"  
  
He tensed up instantly.  
  
"I... you may leave when... er..."  
  
"When you knock me up?"  
  
"No!" He blurted out, thoroughly shocked by the very notion. "Not at all!"   
  
"When I reject you for the hundredth time?"  
  
"Listen...!"  
  
"Herb," she said again. "I should be back in Japan by now. This place is very nice, and despite being a strange guy, you're not that bad... but I miss my friend... friends, and my restaurant, and school and lots of other things. I'm worried about Mousse, and I just need to get back home."  
  
"But... Very well." He stiffened chin up. "If you still persist, when this situation here is over, you may leave if you so wish. At present, however, we have no one to spare escorting you to a city, and I would not wish you leave on your own."  
  
"I am a martial artist. I can take care of myself, you know," Ukyou snapped at him. That sounded familiar...  
  
"You can, yes... but I would not wish to see you harmed. Whether you think the same of me, you are my mate, and I take that seriously."  
  
"Good enough, I guess." She stood up, and offered him her hand. "Let's get out of here. You can help me with my Ki attack. I want to have it ready by the time we set off for Phoenix Mountain."  
  
"We?" Herb asked, a lack of understanding passing across his features, and took her hand as he stood up.  
  
"We. I'm going too. You'll need someone watching your back while everyone goes gung ho, and charges off to die good honorable Musk deaths."  
  
"Women don't fight along Musk warriors... it is against Tradition..."  
  
"Well, there's a first time for everything. Besides, you said you were short on *man*power, right?"  
  
Herb, Lord of the Musk, sighed in defeat.  
  
"I suppose," he said, acquiescing, but at least he wasn't frowning anymore. "You know I would never let anything happen to you."  
  
"Relax a little." She smiled up at him warmly. "Let me tell you about this guy I used to fight called Saotome Ranma..."  
  
***  
  
The background noise of insects and animals disappeared as a strange sort of birdcall warbled off in the distance. But apparently, there was no immediate danger, or it was only fleeting, and a minute later the nighttime sounds and activity resumed its normal choir. Changing position against her chosen tree trunk, Shampoo eased her aching back muscles against the hardwood. Even for a hardened Amazon warrior, however, it was far from being remotely comfortable. Silently, she wished that she'd never returned to China.  
  
"There's no need for you to stay awake." Another girl, one of two taken along with her, Shampoo didn't quite recognize which one, leaned over to check on her. "We'll stand watch, over."  
  
"Thanks," Shampoo said shortly. "But if it's all the same to you, I'll stick with what I'm doing here."  
  
The girl was silent for a moment.  
  
"You still don't trust us, do you, over?"  
  
Actually, she hadn't thought that much of it one way or another.  
  
"Tso Pu trusts you," she said. "That's enough."  
  
The other girl shrugged, and walked off to join her sister. Their names were Cherry and Chain, but, being identical twins, Shampoo simply couldn't tell one from the other. They were girls from one of the neighboring villages under Joketsuzoku protection and oversight. Normally, the villages only provided labor and food to support the Amazons, but occasionally they provided choice males and even promising girl-children to be raised by the whole Village and the Elders. Cherry and Chain weren't Amazons, but they had been trained by them, and Soap had highly recommended her sister take them as backup when they finally ran into Mousse.  
  
Tso Pu also warned Shampoo not to hold back when they found him.  
  
It was hard, hearing everything that had happened, and the words of the Elders, condemning Mousse to exile and death for working with the Musk. Even now, even with the sanction of the Elders, it was hard to believe Mousse would have, or could have, betrayed them. He had always been somewhat rebellious and unorthodox, certainly, but a danger to the tribe, and a collaborator with the Musk? To someone who knew him as long as she did, it seemed impossible.  
  
She and Mousse had been drifting apart for weeks, ever since he and Ukyou seemed to 'hook up' in some sort of arrangement, if not a relationship. Around that time the whole situation with Ranma had fizzled out when she managed to get a few honest dates out with him, after bribing him with Cologne's training, which he needed to catch up with his rival. Honestly, she had expected Mousse to come back in force after that, more determined than ever, once it became obvious that Ranma wasn't interested in her that way. Instead, he had faded into the background and gotten involved in other things.   
  
It didn't make sense.  
  
At first, Shampoo had blamed Ukyou. The Japanese girl had gone missing, and Cologne offered the explanation that perhaps she had been captured or talked into joining up with the Musk, and then taken Mousse along with her. Still, Shampoo liked to think that she knew Ukyou fairly well, given that she was her rival, and Ukyou never struck her as politically inclined enough to take sides so far from home. Which left her... no one knew where, and Mousse a simple traitor.  
  
Maybe all those years of rejection... and abuse...  
  
Was it her fault?  
  
And was the entire Tribe about to pay for it?  
  
At least she didn't have to worry about fulfilling either the Kiss of death, or the Kiss of Marriage. The Village was on a high state of alert when she arrived, and the Council of Elders quickly decided to put a halt to unnecessary acts that would detract from the defense of the village, and suspended numerous blocks of the Amazon Code of Laws. The First to go where the Kiss of death and Kiss of Marriage Laws - it was a sensible course of action when fighting an army of male Musk, and risking fighting with outsider female fighters from other areas.  
  
So her obligation to 'deal' with Saotome Ranma was, at least for the moment, no longer something she needed concern herself with. Which was, unquestionably, a good thing. She had been feeling steadily less comfortable with the short-term concept of degrading herself to get this man as her groom, and with Japan in general. What was the point of deceiving him by being and acting like someone you weren't? It could have worked well enough if the simple goal were for her to have his child, but it wouldn't keep him in the tribe for any extended amount of time. Shampoo knew that she certainly couldn't keep the charade going for anything more than a year or so without losing her mind. It was grating on her, and had been for over a year, trying to conform to what men supposedly wanted her to be, in their twisted little society.  
  
What was there to say of it?  
  
She hated men.  
  
She didn't hate men like Tendo Akane allegedly hated the male gender, obviously. Shampoo had no doubts why they were there, and to do what - her Amazon education had been nothing if not frank and straightforward on that subject. Nor was she a lesbian. Though many Amazons had leanings in that direction, particularly those in the Sisterhood of Arms, or the Sisterhood of Shields, or any of the other 'secret' mini-cults that influenced Amazon affairs at any one time, Shampoo was not one of them. She just hated men.  
  
Or, to be more exact, she didn't think very highly of them.  
  
They were a craven, cowardly lot. Amazon males had no backbone, except Mousse, and he was too stubborn and bullheaded to be anything except brain damaged in some way. Males banded together in predictable groups, to do predictable things, and thought with their lower regions. They were scavengers, or would be scavengers, if the situation presented itself. Outsider males were nearly as bad as Amazon ones. They came from a world where they dominate, and where their values are the highest writ. The sanctimoniousness of them, and the looks... the leering they gave her in Japan, and even in most of China, aggravated her no end.  
  
Ryouga had been the first one worth a damn to her. Ranma had lied to her, tricked her, and gotten her out of his hair soon after they met, with no regard to her situation at the time. When Ranma had done the whole 'I'm actually female' thing, and Shampoo had switched back to fulfilling the Kiss of Death, she'd found herself unable to go through with killing him. She found herself not hating this man, and now, this woman, and she'd ran from it, back home to the Joketsuzoku. Only later did she realize she'd been conned.   
  
Ryouga, though, was honest. He was honest and straightforward about how he felt about people and things - Shampoo had to respect that. He was also strong and skilled in the Art, and yet not overbearing or abusive of it. If anything, he was too humble, preferring to give the impression of somewhat lost and pathetic normalcy. He wasn't as dodgy or full of himself as Ranma, or as clingy and needy as Mousse was of her. They had become friends. Of course, she had the notion that more would or could come from it than that, then things had started to occur between him and the middle Tendo girl, and Shampoo couldn't find anything in her wanting to ruin it for him.   
  
She decided it must have been friendship.  
  
She wanted him to be happy, even if it was with someone she didn't particularly care for. It was an odd feeling. Shampoo really hadn't had many... or even any, friends when she was young. There had been her older sister, of course. Soap was good to her, supportive, and she had always been there when she needed to talk. She was a good sister, really, but not exactly very warm and caring, as Shampoo had seen other sisters (real sisters) be to each other. Soap had disliked the abuse of their authority over males, and Shampoo knew, secretly jealous of her younger sister's training under the Matriarch Cologne. Shampoo had simply been gifted with a better body - faster, stronger, tougher... Soap had never said anything of it, but Shampoo suspected.  
  
Her father was male - enough said on that. The rest of the village was almost secondary. She had trained with many other girls over the years, and alienated many more with her status over them in the village. She was hardly the 'Beloved Amazon' Soap had somehow become. But she was the best, and in the long run, that was enough. If need be, she could and would stand alone, a pillar of Amazon pride and heritage, on her strength and prowess alone.  
  
Near the campfire, Cherry and Chain were talking softly, almost conspiratorially, between themselves. The two girls were the epitome of identical twins, and nearly impossible to tell apart. To make matters worse, the dressed alike! They were like adult versions of LinLin and RanRan, though much more somber and a lot less hyper, and they had a weird way of talking. They also seemed to be herbalists or something similar, not straightforward warriors. It struck Shampoo as slightly odd that Soap would recommend them to go along, instead of another warrior or two, but she supposed it was unlikely many females would fare well against Mousse anyway.   
  
It was a surprisingly frank evaluation of him - missing the usual bluster associated with even the premise of an Amazon male that could fight. At least Cherry and Chain, whichever was which, could heal her up if Mousse fought back when they found him. It was hard to predict how he'd act, or what'd he do next, cornered and on the run as he was, now. Besides, there was also the very real chance of encountering a Musk patrol.  
  
"Where are you two from, anyway?" Shampoo asked, raising her voice enough for the twins to hear. She hadn't really talked much to them, and she wasn't really a team person, but it wouldn't hurt to have some background information. In her experience, most associations weren't worth the effort of starting them up in the first place.   
  
"Yao..." One of them blurted out, earning a quick angry look from the other.  
  
"Yaocaicun...?" Shampoo scratched her chin in thought.  
  
"Yaosin, actually, over." The other girl, the more aggressive of the two, corrected her sister.  
  
"Yaosin," Shampoo said back. "I've never heard of it."  
  
"Very small village... not on any maps, over." The girl, Shampoo guessed was Cherry, have a broad grin.  
  
"Whatever."   
  
Shampoo rolled her eyes, and went back to reclining against the tree. It was late, and she had much less patience for listening to the two girls' quirky way of talking than most. As long as they didn't get in her way, or get taken hostage, or anything else stupid, she couldn't care less. She'd been ordered by the Elders to find and neutralize the traitor that had turned against them, regardless of his reasons for doing it, and personal feelings aside, Shampoo was not one to shirk her responsibility towards the tribe.  
  
Mousse was as good as dead. 


	8. Learning Curve part 23

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXIII (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
Tokyo.   
  
Futara Arms Apartments.  
  
"The Guest is in through the Door, everybody. No, don't rush up to thank me all at once, now.... Hey, who got pizza?"   
  
The tall, light blonde man closed the door behind him and greeted the two other men in the apartment. They threw back twin grunts of acknowledgement. Pearl Adams looked over the small crew he had assembled: Good ol' Team A. There was a dark haired Asian man, Takuhara Yosho, who was busy fiddling with some specialized equipment in the corner, set up on a too-small desk. He was the team's 'snooper,' their electronics specialist. The other, watching television, was an American, Kenji Smith. The guy was a wizard with explosives, and cemented the team as their demolitions specialist. He had a short attention span, at least when it came to prime time television, and only stayed on any channel for a minute or so at the most before moving on to another.  
  
"It's okonomiyaki," Yosho corrected, his English only slightly touched by his Japanese accent.  
  
"It's flat. It's round. It's got crust." Pearl picked up a lukewarm and somewhat mushy half-pie and examined it. Finally he decided on just picking up the box, and rolling the pancake into something bite-able. "Well, its kind of got crust. And it's small, but it's essentially a soggy Japanese pizza."  
  
"No way. There are fundamental ingredient differences, man. You need cheese for a pizza," Kenji said and casually leaned back on the sofa.  
  
"Oh, you're some kind of pizza connoisseur, now? The first pizzas didn't have cheese, you know," Adams said as he took a bite between sentences. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't that great either.   
  
"The first pizzas didn't have tomato," Kenji lectured, "They did, however, dress them with cheese."  
  
"What? Where'd you get that crap?"  
  
"Don't kill the messenger. It's true. I heard it on TV. Like on the Learning Network or something."  
  
"I've got my doubts." Adams finished off the half-pie, tossed aside another empty box, and found an untouched one.  
  
"Besides, I don't think okonomiyaki has cheese or tomato. Usually. Hey, Yosho, am I right on this one?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Hold on a second." The raven-haired man in question held up his hand, and after a few seconds continued, "Here's how I understand it. Okonomiyaki has... ah... eggs, flour, cabbage, usually bento, seaweed, some kind of meat... it can have tomato, though. You guys always order tomato with it. Anyway, it doesn't have cheese, and it usually doesn't have tomato. They seem pretty incongruous to me, except for them both being round and flat. Sorry, chief."  
  
"Right, fine. 'Okonomiyaki,' all right? I'll use the proper terminology - you'll never hear pizza from me again." Adams groaned, and took a big bite as he walked over to check on Yosho. "You know, the stuff from that other place was better."  
  
"Ukyou's?" Kenji asked from where he sat, still browsing through the channels.  
  
"That's it. Ukyou's Bar and Grill. We had her under surveillance for a while anyway. It was a good, easy pickup. Tasty too."  
  
"Yep. Damn good food," Kenji agreed. "She was cute, too."  
  
"Not our jurisdiction anymore," Yosho said as he snapped his fingers together. "Ah! Gotcha! It's all set up, Chief."  
  
"Cool. Let's see it." Adams took another bite and looked over the radio reception equipment. "Time?"  
  
"Twelve... fourteen," Kenji called out, as he flipped to a news channel for the exact local time.  
  
"Right. Remember that when we fill out today's report." Adams turned to Yosho. "Let's hear it. Kenji, turn the TV down!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah... I wish we'd just get the call to do the Hit already."  
  
"Sssh!" Yosho silenced the other man, and adjusted the volume dial appropriately, after taking off his earphones.  
  
"...You didn't pay for those, did you?"  
  
"Oh my, no. A nice man gave them to me."  
  
"This wouldn't be the same nice man you've been seeing behind everyone's back, would it, sister o' mine? When do we meet him?"  
  
"Nabiki. He's just being friendly. It would have been rude not to accept."  
  
"Well, come on. He's actually given you flowers! It's your obligation to tell us, or at least me, about him now."  
  
"Nosey, isn't she?" Adams cut into the conversation they were listening in on.  
  
Yosho just shrugged.  
  
"There's nothing to say, Nabiki," Kasumi's voice insisted. There was also the sound of running water in the background.  
  
"Of course there is. Is he... older than you?"  
  
Hesitation.  
  
"Yes," Kasumi finally said.  
  
"He isn't a martial artist, is he?"  
  
"Oh, I don't think so."  
  
"Is he cute, then?"  
  
"I... Nabiki-chan, don't you..."  
  
"Oh, that means he IS, cute, isn't he?"  
  
"Well, he's a very nice man."  
  
"Kasumi-speak for 'he's a stud,'" Nabiki's voice came closer. "What about Dr. Tofu?"  
  
"What ...about ...Dr. Tofu?"  
  
"I was just wondering."  
  
There was splashing noise just then, cutting off and interrupting the sound.  
  
"Water. Compensating... putting on filters," Yosho clicked on two smaller side machines, and adjusted them slightly. The sound quickly returned, slightly softer and a little muddied, but otherwise fine.  
  
"...Father will want to meet him. You know how he is about you, his 'favorite' daughter."  
  
"Nabiki, father loves all of us equally. I'd appreciate it if you didn't imply otherwise," Kasumi's voice was, for once, quite stern.  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"...Sorry."  
  
"I know you didn't mean it, Nabiki-chan."  
  
"I guess I'm just kind of hassled. Or maybe not hassled. Ever since Ryo-chan and Ranma left on that training trip of theirs, it's been... like a sort of tension on the air. Akane... Natsume... And of course, now that the boys are gone, and Shampoo's left for China, Happosai is running amuck."  
  
"He is a handful."  
  
There was a 'thump' in the background, just then.  
  
"That's an understatement!" Nabiki laughed, softly. "You should talk to him. He'd listen to you... if anyone."  
  
"What do you mean? That I should demand grandfather Happosai stop... being himself?"  
  
"Stop being a pain in the ass and a filthy old pervert is what I mean. He's even testing me, now. It's like he has no fear at all. How on earth do you keep him out of your room, and from stealing your stuff?"  
  
Kasumi was quiet for a few seconds.  
  
"Hey, what's going on?" Kenji yelled and looked over the back of the couch, "You lose the connection of something?"  
  
"Connection's still there, Chief. Five by five," Yosho checked the equipment.  
  
Miles away, Kasumi finally relented.   
  
"The laundry."  
  
"What... about the laundry?"  
  
"He avoids the laundry. Just being around... men's things weakens him. I've always thought that was why he does his own laundry... on the roof thank goodness. He doesn't really trust me, I suppose. Or maybe he just doesn't like the idea of laundry."  
  
"Hmm... a chink in his armor?"  
  
"Oh my, Nabiki... you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"  
  
Insidious laughter followed.  
  
"Interesting. More infighting around Target C, it seems. Good job, Yosho. All this is recording, right?" Adams finished talking, and licked a bit of sauce from his index finger, having finished the okonomiyaki itself. Satisfied, he crumpled the box up into a rough ball.  
  
"Patched directly into the system we were using before. Saving every word for posterity," The Asian man replied, smiling.  
  
"Good. Sounds like the two of 'em are walking off," Pearl said as he crossed his arms in thought. "You think we got the table in the main room?"  
  
"Depends on the impression you gave her, Chief. Sounds like chances are good, though. You caught her, hook, line and sinker."  
  
"Yes," Adams' voice softened a bit. "She's... she's very different from the others. She's not as cynical. She's very accepting."  
  
"Accepting, Chief?"  
  
"Accommodating, may be a better word." The blonde man closed his eyes. "We'll see where it takes us. I'm moving towards Project Haul, personally. Once the two prime targets return."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Either. Both have their merits... and their drawbacks. But both, I feel, are preferable to a shootout like Mr. Chen suggested. At worst, we have that possibility to fall back on. Right, Kenji?"  
  
"Sure thing," Kenji called back, "A kilo or two of C-4 and a face full of frag should take out any of these people, martial artist superpowers or not. Problem solved, eh?"  
  
"Yeah," Adams voice hardened. "Problem solved."  
  
***  
  
Soun folded the letter in half between his fingers. He had watched, for too long, and too often, as the world around him got steadily worse. It was long past the point where action should have replaced words. Now, the solution... a solution, certainly, was in his hand, but he found himself far more reluctant to use it than he had thought. A bright ray of sunshine crossed his path as he walked past a broad window on his home's second floor. He darkened it for a half second as he passed by, but his thoughts lingered on that action until he came to the guest room. Ranma, Genma and Ryouga had been sharing it for the about the last two weeks. Shortly after the two boys got back from rescuing Nabiki and Akane from that Pantyhose person, they had left on a training trip. Genma had, in light of the pampering he was receiving, decided to stay behind and sleep in the dojo itself.  
  
It was Natsume's and Kurumi's room now.  
  
"Hello?" Soun knocked on the half open door. "Anyone in there?"  
  
"Come on in, Papa."  
  
Pushing the door aside, Soun stepped in and saw Kurumi sitting at the normally unused desk that the room hosted. It had been moved from the corner where Ranma and Genma had moved it to the window, in the light. The place was clean, too, though Soun supposed that was mostly Natsume's work. Kurumi was at the desk, reading something. He couldn't see the title, but guessed it was schoolwork. Now that they'd found a home, Kurumi especially was looking forward to attending school and getting a formal education. Natsume was still concerned over getting an official adoption into the Tendo family, and had gone out for a quick walk about an hour ago. Soun nervously fingered the folded letter in his hand.  
  
"Studying hard?" Soun asked, calmly. He walked up to her, and looked down at the book on the desk.  
  
"Hai, papa," Kurumi said with a bright smile. "I can't wait to go to Furinkan, just like Akane and Nabiki! It sounds so cool!"  
  
Soun frowned a bit at that. Furinkan was a hassle, and he'd heard about the Principal there. He was also considering the possibility of sending Kurumi to St. Hebereke's Academy - it was an all girls' school with a supposedly excellent athletics department, high-test scores, and a relative minimum of school related mayhem. It was a private school, but Kurumi could easily get in for free riding her athletics. Still, all that was provided he kept them around.  
  
He had sent for a genetic test a while ago, to prove that he wasn't Kurumi or Natsume's father. He'd been right, of course. Tendo Soun might cheat at shogi (and go, and checkers, and poker, and lots of other games), and he might shirk his martial artists' duties once in a while in his old age, but he did not outright lie, and certainly not to his own children. It still troubled him that no one had simply taken his word as truth. Why would he persist on hiding something like that? He had been a pillar of faithfulness in marriage. He hadn't even been with a woman since his beloved wife's death...  
  
The genetic test only confirmed what he'd said. He wasn't even the girls' uncle, or anything similar. It was what he had wanted, at the time. Bring out the evidence, and the girls leave to keep wandering in search of their father. Akane calms down, because she isn't threatened anymore by Natsume's claims, or Kurumi's abilities. He even suspected that the whole situation here was what drove Ryouga to do some random wandering of his own, and it defiantly didn't do anything to encourage Ranma to stick around the house either, when Ryouga apparently asked, off hand, if he would like to come, too. It was good for them, Soun knew. It gave the boys some time to themselves to become true friends, which the elder Tendo sincerely hoped they would become soon, just like he and Genma had gradually become comrades rather than opponents all those years ago. Quite frankly, he'd almost been looking forward to kicking the two pseudo-Tendo girls out, and returning the household to semi-normalcy.   
  
"Is something wrong, Papa?"  
  
"No," Soun said, quickly snapping back to attention. "Nothing really. I was just checking up on you, seeing how things are going, you know."  
  
"Things are... very good." Kurumi leaned on one arm, and looked up at him. "I'm kind of hungry, though."  
  
Soun's expression softened.  
  
"You're always hungry." He was tempted to say more, but chickened out. "I tell you what, I'll go see if Kasumi has any snacks downstairs."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really," Soun gave a small wave, and headed for the door.  
  
"Thanks, Papa," Kurumi said. She paused for a moment then added, "I love you."  
  
Soun's whole body tensed up.  
  
"Study hard, Kurumi-chan," he said, perhaps too quickly, and then left.   
  
Downstairs, Nabiki turned the page of her manga, and took a long drink from a tall glass of lemonade. It had been a quiet day, downright dull actually, except for teasing Kasumi for a little while, and thinking of anti-Happosai measures she had plans for in the near future. In a way, it was almost like it had been before Ranma showed up.   
  
Routine.  
  
The slamming of the door outside got the middle Tendo's attention.  
  
"Hey, Akane." Nabiki gave her sister a long look. "Hard workout?"  
  
"You have no idea," Akane said and winced, towel draped around her shoulders.  
  
"You know... a friendly word of advice, for free, even." Nabiki lowered her voice and Akane sat down opposite her. "Give yourself a break. Daddy made it abundantly clear he doesn't want anyone fighting over the school. Kurumi doesn't seem to care that much, by herself, and Natsume only put the idea forward because she wants to prove herself as indispensable to dad. This whole 'who will carry on' deal is stupid, if you ask me."  
  
"You don't understand because you're not a martial artist, Nabiki." Akane gripped the ends of the towel around her shoulders tightly. "It's a matter of pride."  
  
"You mean stubbornness? That does seem to be a trait you all share."  
  
"That, too, maybe. It's... It's one thing to not be as good as Ranma or Ryouga, or even Shampoo and Ukyou.... They're all truly dedicated to the Art, but none of them are really competition. I stopped being like them years ago, after Dad finished teaching me the School Techniques. I just... I guess I got complacent. I thought I was the best out there. Better than Dad, even."  
  
Nabiki didn't say anything - all this she knew.   
  
"Yeah... I still don't know about that. I know I'm not the best, Nabiki. I know I'm far from it. But that doesn't mean I'll just roll over and do nothing, while someone else takes what's mine!"  
  
"I guess I can kind of understand that," Nabiki said, after a few seconds. Akane stood back up, as if to leave, but stopped before she left the room. It seemed like the conversation was over, but something remained unsaid.  
  
"Hey!" She called over her shoulder. "Do you have any idea when Ranma is getting back?"  
  
"You miss him?" Nabiki grinned at the thought. Akane seemed about to yell 'no' simply on impulse, but then she looked around, and quickly nodded.  
  
"A little," Akane explained, quietly. "You miss Ryouga?"  
  
"A little," Nabiki said, and went back to reading her manga. "They'll be back when they're back. Hopefully they'll both be in one piece. It's out of our hands anyway, and I make it a policy not to worry about things I have zero control over."  
  
"They better not be fighting," Akane growled, shaking a fist. "They made a promise..."  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the wilds of Japan:  
  
"Saotome! Those were MY raisins, you... you... you damn thief!"  
  
"What? You expect me to eat the food Akane packed!? Even vultures wouldn't touch that stuff!"  
  
"That's it! The last straw!! DIIIEEEE!!!!!!"  
  
***  
  
"I'm sure they're behaving themselves," Nabiki said to sister, but felt an odd shiver down her spine when she said it. Chalking it up to the slightly cold breeze from outside, she promptly forgot about it. On the table, in a glass vase, Kasumi's flowers shifted a bit in the wind.  
  
***  
  
1953 CE  
  
"My God... we actually found it... the old woman was right..."  
  
Baiyankara Range.  
  
Quinghai Province, People's Republic of China.  
  
"Chouchuanshan!" Hsing Kung tipped back the rim of his Mao hat. "I told you getting a hold of those old manuscripts would pay off, sir. I told you!"  
  
Bishop gave a short laugh, and patted his companion on the back.  
  
"That you did, Hsing! It's the find, the discovery, of a lifetime. I wish I could take more credit for it, but it was all you, Hsing. It was your baby."  
  
"Thank you, sir. But it couldn't have been done without your contacts, your money, and your influence... This is our find, not just mine."  
  
"Our find." Bishop nodded, facial features set in stone. "Our great opportunity."  
  
"Opportunity?" Hsing had never heard that word used in respect to their quest for the Legendary Cursed Springs before.  
  
"Opportunity," Bishop said again. "For Greatness."  
  
"Greatness," Hsing repeated. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Let's get down there," Bishop took one last long look down at the mist-shrouded valley. "I want to start documentation as soon as possible."  
  
"Absolutely," Hsing agreed, following the other man as they made their way down a rough path descending into the place. He saw Bishop's clenched left hand, for a second, before he went back to hiding it in the folds of his parka. As they walked, the mist seemed to surround them.  
  
"Greatness," Bishop's ghostly voice echoed. "Our find... Hsing..."  
  
Greatness...  
  
Greatness...  
  
"Maybe you should go first, Hsing. After all, you make a far better guide than I...."  
  
Hsing woke up with a start, clutching his chest. He was almost seventy years old, and it was at times like this that he felt it. Checking the clock in the living room, he realized that it was late, almost ten o'clock at night. Still, he felt far more weary than he normally did, despite not exactly being the most physically active of people. Slowly getting up off the couch, and putting aside the magazine he'd been reading when he dozed off, Hsing walked to the downstairs bathroom, and washed off his face. The cold water shocked him into a greater state of alertness, but did nothing to subside the nagging doubts and thoughts he'd been harboring for too long.  
  
Then the door rang.  
  
"Plum? Plum?" He called out. "Plum?"  
  
"I'll get it!" A voice called out, from upstairs.  
  
"Good," Hsing slowly replied. The doorbell rang again, and this time, Hsing greeted it with greater suspicion. No one in the area would wish him ill, except the Phoenix people, who would likely just be content to keep him out of the way and away from Jyusenkyou, but there was still the chance of bandits or other unsavory folk coming by unannounced. The Guide reached behind him, making sure his 9mm was still there, just in case. He hadn't used it in a lifetime, but he'd be damned if anyone or anything threatened his adopted daughter. Not again.  
  
As Hsing got closer to the front door, he heard voices.  
  
"My name is Mu Tzu. I... I didn't know there was a house so far out here. I was wondering if I could stay for the night. I can pay..."  
  
"Mu Tzu?" The Guide stepped forward and asked, "Is that an Amazon name?"  
  
"Yes, sir, it is," The boy said, his voice coming from behind the door. If he was who the Guide suspected he was, it was a given that he could pretty easily tear any regular door off its hinges, locked or not, or even smash through the wall. This boy, Mu Tzu, however, had not. He was asking for permission, and even willing to pay for a good night's sleep on an actual bed. Plum was standing behind the door, looking through the peephole.  
  
"He's by himself," Plum said, before the Guide could ask.  
  
Hsing sniffed, then spoke, "All right. Let him in."  
  
Plum opened the door, and Mu Tzu entered, stopped at the threshold, and took off his shoes, which were dirty from walking. His robes weren't in any better shape. He looked like he'd been roughing it on the road for some time and hadn't been enjoying it one bit. Mousse adjusted his thick glasses, and gave a quick, small bow to Plum and the Guide.  
  
"Thank you... both of you," he said.  
  
The Guide met his gaze. "Hmm. So it is you... Plum, I will be having a talk with our guest. I suspect he will want a warm bath when we are finished. Make sure Rouge doesn't disturb us either, all right?"  
  
"Sure." Plum gave her elder an unsure look, but didn't pry as to Hsing's motives. As the little girl quickly headed upstairs, Hsing folded his arms behind his back and motioned for Mousse to follow him. The younger boy complied, and the Guide led him into the house's lower living room.  
  
"How do you like my home?" Hsing asked.  
  
"It is a very nice house." Mousse took the polite route. "Three floors?"  
  
"Four, actually. Including the attic and the basement."  
  
"You didn't...?"  
  
"Build it? No, of course not. Let's just say that I have a much higher paying job than most would assume." The Guide smiled as a joke he alone understood. "You should see the health plan."  
  
Mousse scratched his head, missing it entirely.  
  
"Please, sit." Hsing held out his hand, and the two men sat down opposite each other, across the coffee table. "I'm no fool, Mu Tzu. How did you really find this house?"  
  
"It... it was on a map."  
  
"A map? I find that unlikely."  
  
Mousse licked his lips, before giving a resigned sigh. He reached into his robes, and took out a large rolled piece of paper, then another, and then another. Handing them over, he shied back, expecting disapproval.  
  
"Understand that I didn't have a choice. Those are copies of maps that the Joketsuzoku have. It was the only way I could find what I wanted... needed to know."  
  
"I see." The Guide looked them over, in a cursory way.  
  
"I've been on the road, and on the run for over a week. I didn't have anywhere to go, or anyone I could turn to. None of the Joketsuzoku aligned tribes or villages would harbor me. And I don't dare approach the Musk... I don't know whether I'd attack them first, or the other way around... no, sir, it wasn't any coincidence that I found this place."  
  
The Guide looked up from the scrolls, then slowly rolled them up and put them aside on the table.  
  
"I'm sorry." Mousse continued. "I've probably brought nothing but trouble..."  
  
"I could say the same." Hsing cut him off. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other?"  
  
"Herb," Mousse snarled. "He kidnapped Ukyou, and knocked me out. Stashed me away on the far side of the valley, too. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't dunk me in something horrible... more horrible, anyway. Actually, I'm surprised he didn't just kill me. But I'm not exactly one to look a gift horse in the mouth."  
  
The Guide was about to tell him that he should, but turned to something else.  
  
"So you came here. Understandable. You want answers?"  
  
"More than anything. I've... I've got nothing else."  
  
The Guide leaned back on the couch, and took a deep sigh.  
  
"You should have died, you know."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You should have died. If you and your friend hadn't shown up... Herb would have been cursed, and you two would be on your way with the cures for your curse. An exchange, almost. As it was, when things didn't turn out like they were supposed to, I was supposed to finish things.... Make you disappear."  
  
Mousse tensed.  
  
"Don't worry," Hsing assured him. "I didn't do it then, why would I now?"  
  
"Why were... who wanted me killed, anyway?"  
  
"Do you know who I work for?"  
  
The Chinese youth shifted a bit, uncomfortable. "No."  
  
"You've heard of the Chouchuanshan... or perhaps I should use the Japanese? You've heard of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, haven't you?"  
  
***  
  
Western Jyusenkyou.  
  
"Gentlemen!" Bishop clasped his broad hands together, cufflinks clapping together in a soft chime. "So nice to see you all again."  
  
"I only wish we could say the same, Bishop."  
  
"Indeed. Your recent activities have drawn more derision than approval."  
  
Nodding and assorted signs of agreement came from the seven Society Elders. Around them, their guards, drawn from the ranks of the Muscle Sword Clan, were present but silent. The shadows of the tall warriors cast down and almost obscured many of the short, shriveled old men that made up the heart and soul of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society.  
  
"Please." Bishop's eyes lazily noted the positions of the guards, and that of the large man next to him; sword held at the hip. "If the Council would but ask, I will answer everything it desires, to the best of my knowledge and ability."  
  
"When we allowed you to open a business branch of our organization, Bishop." A bald man, his head as white as a mountaintop, gestured towards Bishop. "It was with the expectation that the moneys raised would go towards the general use of the Society as a whole."  
  
"Yes? Has that not been so?"  
  
"Over the last few years, profits have been steadily decreasing. Recent evidence actually indicates that your activities are operating in the red... that you are diverting stockpiled funds kept for the whole of the Society to cover your own expenditures."  
  
Bishop smiled. "We are entering a period of... expansion."  
  
***  
  
"The Society... was founded shortly around the failure of the Boxer Rebellion. At the time, it was under a separate name, and dedicated itself to the rebirth of mysticism, ancient martial arts, and the occult." Hsing paused to scratch his nose.  
  
"The occult?" Mousse asked.  
  
"Hidden Weapons, for example. Chinese Black Magic." The Guide gave a wry smile. "Things I'm sure you are familiar with first hand. However it was a small and relatively insignificant group... I served some time in the Korean War did you know that? No... of course not. How old do I look?"  
  
"Maybe... forty?"  
  
"Try over seventy." The Guide laughed at that. "But that's another story. Another tragic tale, I suppose... I served in the War with a man from the USSR, who was there as a special observer from the Soviets. His name was Bishop Verikov. Shortly after an accident... and the end of the war, we became close friends. At least as close a friend as Bishop ever allowed himself to have. I was a young man like yourself, eager to see some of the world, and make my mark on it. I had all the knowledge I'd thought I'd needed, and none of the opportunity to show it off. Bishop gave me that opportunity and I... we found Jyusenkyou."  
  
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Or maybe Jyusenkyou found us. Regardless, we became the first outsiders to set foot in that forsaken valley in centuries. It was an archeological gold mine, but of course, it had to be kept a secret. There was a great deal of power hidden there, and Bishop and I knew better than to draw the attention of the young People's Republic into the area. Instead, we... or more specifically, he, gradually let the Preservation Society in on it, and used their resources and local familiarity to bring his own people in. He was patient... very patient, and content to handle financial affairs, and open businesses relating to Jyusenkyou. He made a great deal of money through legitimate means, both in direct sales of things relating to Jyusenkyou, and through indirect sales to pharmaceutical and paramilitary groups worldwide. You can perhaps also imagine how much he made through alliances with criminal cartels, smugglers, and organized crime..."  
  
***  
  
"We are a moral organization, Bishop! We enforce proper values... the values of our ancestors. We cannot afford these... entanglements we hear you've gotten us into."  
  
"I completely understand," Bishop said as he spread his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. "However, I am involved in things. Research... Development... that require a broad hand, so to speak."  
  
"Additionally." Another elder, a wrinkled bag of bones, cut in, "There is the matter of this... this situation with the Musk and the Phoenix and several other groups. You are funneling aid, in the form of food, medicines, even metals and other essentials towards one group, the Musk. You have, apparently, given them the idea that we, the Council, approved of this. That they have the support of the Society, when no such vote has been put before us, much less given the... frankly slim... chance of passing."  
  
"Oh yes," Bishop said as his smile curved into a smirk. "You didn't get a chance to vote on that little issue, did you? Oh well. It is rather too late now. ...Kiini?"  
  
"Yes?" The big man next to him asked.  
  
The half-Russian nodded to the man, and turned his back. "I think it's time I leave."  
  
"Bishop! Bishop!" One of the Council elder's nearly strained his voice yelling, "You have not been dismissed!"  
  
"Get back here, Bishop!" Another added, "Guards! Stop him immediately!"  
  
To the surprise of the Elders, the Guards didn't move a muscle.  
  
"What... what's that sound?" The wrinkled bone bag who'd said it looked up, as a sudden and loud roar filled the air. Rising above the tall bamboo, a helicopter, jet-black, descended to hovering just over the ground. Bishop gave the assembled Elders a quick salute.  
  
"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure seeing all of you again. Kiini... If you would do the honors?" He asked, as he boarded the helicopter.  
  
"Bishop! Just what the hell are you doing?! Bishop!!"  
  
As the helicopter took off, the broad smile of Kiini was matched only by the curve of his sword. With a loud 'click' every one of the Muscle Sword guardsmen took out their blades. The grouped Elders, all summoned in one place for their meeting, clustered together, almost back to back.  
  
"Wait! Kiini... stop! What are..."  
  
"Kill them," The tall man said, his voice bordering on mirthful. "Kill them all."  
  
***  
  
Mousse cleared his throat.  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" The male Amazon finally asked.  
  
The Guide seemed to consider that query.  
  
"Someone needs to know. Maybe I've just been holding this inside me for too long. You can only pile so much guilt on a man's shoulders before he collapses from it all. Besides, what did you say? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"  
  
"True enough, I guess."  
  
"I work for him. We work for each other. You could say either. I catalogued the Springs, that was the early work... getting their histories in order was the difficult part. Bishop and I worked on that, while he built up his influence. He wanted to secure our position there, so that the Joketsuzoku or Musk or whoever wouldn't be able to simply push us out or take our research. He and I had far too much invested, too much work put into Jyusenkyou, to let that happen. Naturally, our worst enemies were to become the people of Phoenix Mountain. They need Jyusenkyou to induce maturity in their god, Saffron. Of course, he wasn't truly a god... he made himself one..."  
  
"Saffron? I've heard..."  
  
"You've heard nothing!" The Guide slowly composed himself, straightening his shirt self-consciously. "You've heard nothing that can describe him properly. He was terrible... the caretaker responsible for rearing him had been a cruel and jealous woman. The Musk were at their height, and some say she had some grudge against them... she's dead, now. He killed her after he matured. That Saffron was as dark a soul as you could ever dread meeting. He crafted the image of himself as a god, not just in title, but an actual god to be worshiped and sacrificed to. He spread like a cancer, enslaving those of his own people who doubted his actions... and he killed those who spoke against him. Bishop and I both supported the coalition that assembled to prevent his expansion into the surrounding province. The Musk, the Amazons, the Seven Lucky Gods, and the young Society... Saffron was eventually driven back, and 'killed' through the sacrifice of the Musk King, Herb the Fourth."  
  
"The Musk..." Mousse seemed to remember something.  
  
"Yes, the Musk. You wanted to know who wanted you dead? The Society... for seeing what you did. Bishop wanted Prince Herb weakened, preferably with the female curse. He believed it would degrade his leadership in the coming storm."  
  
"That's it?" Mousse balled his fists in anger. "That's IT?"  
  
"That is enough." The Guide frowned, eyes half lidded. "That was more than enough."  
  
"So then the Musk... must have stolen the papers from the Joketsuzoku. Because Herb... plans on attacking them next?"  
  
"Right, and wrong. There are three sides to everything."  
  
"I don't get it. What side is the Society on, if they support the Musk, and yet try and double cross Herb at the same time? And... who are the Musk? Really?"  
  
"Those are two very long answers, Mu Tzu. I don't believe you're... ready for them yet."  
  
***  
  
Bishop didn't stay to watch the slaughter.   
  
There was little entertainment value in watching the deaths of a cabal of withered and obsolete old men. They had always been nothing more than a means to an end, and now that that end was nearly at hand, they were no longer necessary. He had had some fun in toying with them, but quickly grown tired of it. All that had mattered was that they were all there, and that the guards present had been unquestioningly loyal to him, and him alone. Such a thing came with surprising ease - the old Elders engendered little respect and loyalty in this new age. Still, if even a few of the old roaches managed to scuttle away, they could remain a thorn in his side for years to come.  
  
Luckily, Kiini was very thorough in his work.  
  
In the air-conditioned near silence of the helicopter, Bishop allowed himself a simple smile. Things were proceeding excellently. The Society was his and his alone, now. He controlled the finances, the research, the projects divisions... he controlled the private army he'd been building up for years, in secret, waiting for this moment to strike. All his agents were in place among the respective parties. On that thought, Bishop put on a headphone, and made a quick call. After only a few rings, a female voice answered.  
  
"Ah, my dear Lychee. How nice to hear from you."  
  
"Papa?"  
  
"Yep. Making a quick surprise call, you could say. Just checking in on things. How's our little patsy coming along?"  
  
"Well enough, Papa. He'll go along with whatever Bishamonten and I tell him. One little wave of the missing half of the scroll is usually all it takes. I'd still rather hold off using one of our few remaining surikomi eggs unless absolutely necessary. Its effects can be rather obvious, or even vulgar, around those sensitive to Ki."  
  
"Very well. And the warship?"  
  
"Finished refitting... almost, from what I've heard. They've installed everything you wanted, including the failsafe device. I don't think it will be necessary, however. Once Kirin and I are wed, you'll find him especially malleable."  
  
"I was just checking. I worry about you, you know."  
  
"I know, Papa. Don't worry. I have everything under control. You'll know the moment when to move... if not from me, than from one of the others."  
  
"Good. Good... keep safe. I don't want to keep you..."  
  
"It's mostly a very little social things. There's a new girl down with the Musk in Sach Khandu, named Kuonji Ukyou... from Japan. She's not part of the Plan, either, but that's not such a bad thing. I think she'll be more than willing to work with us when the time comes, if only for the chance to go home. I like her. She could be a powerful ally... she is close to Prince Herb."  
  
"Hmm." Bishop relented. "I trust your judgment of her character, Lychee. Tread carefully."  
  
"I do, Papa. Talk to you later. BaiBai!"  
  
With a click, she closed her cell phone. Taking off his headphones with his good hand, Bishop Verikov... or Bishop Chen, depending on whom you asked, gave a hearty laugh. Outside, and far below, the world sped by. 


	9. Learning Curve part 24

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXIV (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
Her name was Kiima, Captain of the Imperial Guard.  
  
Kiima was the daughter of Tandorri, the last Great Caretaker. In her youth, in her earliest memories, she had beheld the face of her King and her God, and every night, before she closed her eyes, she saw that face and every time was like a new epiphany. By her God's order, she had been trained by the finest of Phoenix warriors, and given access to all the mythical and mystical information and learning the Tribe had unraveled and gleaned over lifetimes of work and conquest.  
  
She was trained to fight and lead in equal measure, and to pave the way for the resurrection of her Lord God back to prominence. In her time as Captain of the Elite Guard, she had been accused of spoiling the neonate Saffron, and exposing him to danger unnecessarily, but they did not understand the proper reverence the Godchild was due. She could not refuse his wishes, no matter how outrageous or inappropriate they were. In addition, she secretly hoped to cultivate a more loving Saffron, so that all could know the grace and majesty of his Rule and his Word. For the last fifteen years, she had been the de facto ruler of the Phoenix Tribe, through its Elite Guard, separated by a generation from the cowards and sycophants that had surrendered their dreams of Empire thirty years ago.   
  
She was a woman of destiny.  
  
She had great plans for the future, both of her people, and for the world.   
  
She had thought she was prepared for any eventuality.  
  
She was wrong.  
  
"What the hell do you mean we're being attacked?!"  
  
"Mistress, we have several reports of a great airship advancing on the Mountain. Old Phoenix Village is also being attacked... Several patrols have already been wiped out!"  
  
"An airship?" Kiima's eyes widened. "The Lucky Gods! They dare to attack us?"  
  
"Kiima!"   
  
"Lord... Lord Saffron?" Kiima spun around, at the approach of the godchild. "You should not be outside of your quarters."  
  
"I go where I wish to go." The boy stomped his foot, and waved the ever present Kinjakan staff in her face. "What is this I hear of an attack?"  
  
"Nothing you need concern yourself with, my Lord."  
  
"It had better not be," Saffron said with a petulant scowl. "It's interrupting my sleep."  
  
"Return to bed, Your Majesty. I will take care of the fools who dare to attack us."  
  
"I expect to hear of it later, Kiima," Saffron said and gave her a hard glare that, for a moment, reminded her of the face of the Old King. It also sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.  
  
"Lieutenant!" She whirled on the young warrior who had brought her the news in the first place. "Assemble every able bodied warrior! Every one!"  
  
"Captain Kiima?"  
  
"I want that airship intercepted before it can engage the Fortress Defenses! They would not begin such an attack unless they had some new way of blasting through them!" Kiima drew her sword. "Now! To arms!"  
  
Miles away, on approach to Phoenix Mountain, Bishamonten looked through his binoculars, and smirked. Behind him, Kirin stood, impatient. The young Prince was none too pleased with the entire situation. He had never really had the heart for true fighting such as in war, and truly disliked the idea of using the Lucky Gods' precious airship as a decoy to draw the attention and ire of the Phoenix. However, Bishmonten and the older Lucky Gods were anything if not for the destruction, or at least containment, of the Phoenix Tribe. Bishamonten, Lucky God of War and Defense, especially, seemed to hate them with a passion the Prince could not understand.  
  
"Perhaps we should go below decks?" Lychee came up from behind Kirin, and rubbed his shoulders. "My Prince?"  
  
"Kirin has taken the Lucky Gods Clan into this conflict. He will see it through."  
  
"Are you sure that's wise?"  
  
"Wise, no. Sure, never more so." Kirin pivoted, and took her shoulders in his hands. "You, however, must go. Understood?"  
  
Lychee nodded, and gave him a deep kiss, before heading down.  
  
"They're coming, just like Prince Herb planned," Bishamonten said as he let the binoculars rest on their strap around his neck. "Hundreds of them, in the first wave alone."  
  
"Reverse the engines! Slow to starboard!" Ebitan called out, "Bishamonten, I shall handle the defense at the rear of the ship."  
  
"Take care." The tall Lucky God nodded, once, to the shorter one, and he was off. Ebiten had the unenviable job of keeping the ship's maneuvers outside the range of the Phoenix Mountain defenses, and preventing any flanking attacks from breaking through and damaging the more vulnerable rear end of the ship. Bishamonten's job, however, was an easy one.  
  
Survive.  
  
Hold off the enraged Bird People.  
  
"Archers!" The God of War shouted. Behind him, nearly a hundred buckler-armed men from Togenkyou, bows held at the ready, took positions in the middle of the ship. They were organized into ten units of ten each, in firing positions to cover nearly every approach to the deck of the ship.   
  
"Guns!" Bishamonten roared, and he heard the satisfying click of armed weapons along the sides of the massive vessel. They were recent additions, courtesy of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society: several powerful .50 caliber machine guns, in armored swivel mounts along the hull. Most importantly, there was the matter of the twin grenade launchers mounted to the keel of the ship. They were the airship's trump card, however.  
  
"Stay in position! Hold where you stand, cover each other, and maybe you'll live through this!"   
  
The Lucky God of War and Defense ground his teeth together, and watched the approaching swarm with something akin to relish. His battle senses were kicking in, and he could feel the energy of his Ki creeping up his neck, along his arms, and into the base of his brain. Every thought was becoming focused, every move like flowing water. The binoculars were of no use, now - he could see all he needed to see with his eyes. The skies were dark with enemies.  
  
"Wait for it."   
  
He didn't even have to think, the words came of their own accord. His eyes darted through the hailstorm of Phoenix warriors, analyzing and sensing on an instinctual basis. There were patterns to it. Disciplined maneuvers he bore the responsibility to determine, expect, and counter. There! Branching off from the right, heading up... no doubt catching a powerful updraft he mentally noted for later. An updraft would lead to an inclination for the winged freaks to attack, and angle they would move towards given a choice.   
  
They were operating in staggered V formations, mostly. On the edges, groups of four were operating in schwarm formations, a tactic introduced by the Old King Saffron in the last war, from lessons gleaned in World War Two. Bishamonten was intimately familiar with them, and the havoc they could cause, especially on stationary defenses. It was a tactic the Phoenix King had used to great effect on the dark day that was the Battle of Soryn...   
  
The V formations would hit the front, drawing fire and swooping down quickly, before circling for another attack, and then another, before closing to melee, their javelins wreaking terrible injury on those they target even before they got a chance for close combat. Behind them, fast firing Phoenix archers and crossbowmen would rain saturation down on their enemies, and when things became a melee, they would close for more accurate supporting fire. Meanwhile, on the flanks, the Phoenix warriors in schwarm, many with explosives or guns, would hit from behind in twos, half attacking, half covering and harrying, hoping to sow chaos and disorganization.  
  
"Wait for it... Melee troops, at the ready!" He looked over his shoulder, for an instant, to make sure that the Musk swordsmen were ready to charge forward, supporting and leading their Togenkyou cousins in the coming battle.  
  
"Archers...!" Bishamonten held up his hand, and heard the bowstrings of a hundred eager fighters tense in anticipation. "Archers..."  
  
Now.  
  
Now!  
  
NOW!!  
  
"ARCHERS... FIRE! ...FIRE!!! Let the skies above rain STEEL and CRY BLOOD!!"  
  
***  
  
Inside Phoenix Mountain  
  
Herb paused.  
  
"The battle has begun." He licked his dry lips, nervous anticipation creeping up his spine. "Quick!"  
  
The Musk Prince kept running, leading them up the long flight of steps. Toma kept pace, his two ever-present bodyguards Toristan and Wonton just behind him. Taking the rear, Ukyou and Mint covered them and made up the rest of the tiny strike group Herb had chosen to penetrate and cut into Phoenix Mountain. Their mission was to make their way to the Imperial Sanctuary of the Phoenix King Saffron and kidnap him. The Phoenix would diminish and exhaust themselves against the Musk fortifications trying to get him back, weakening themselves significantly in the process.  
  
Or that was the plan.  
  
"Faster! This is the way!" Herb made a left when the path branched, without even thinking about which was to go. The endless flight of steps seemed to go on forever, and it was testing even a superior martial artist's endurance. Toma and his group were tiring slightly, and though Herb and Mint didn't show even small signs of fatigue, they slowed down to stay together. There was a damn good chance that there'd be fighting involved when they approached the top, and it wasn't wise to totally exhaust themselves running p the steps.  
  
"Prince Herb! How do you know the way, anyway?" Toristan asked, in between breaths.  
  
"This place... was once the Jusendo Observatory." Herb huffed. "A Musk outpost."  
  
"How did it...?"  
  
"Bad things just have a way of happening," herb said and directed them to a quick right, down a long hall. "Enough of past events... we have precious little time."  
  
Toristan had no more to say of it, but Ukyou could tell Herb was hiding something. There was an almost... guilty tone to his voice, beyond its evasiveness, that she couldn't quite pin down. Why would Herb feel guilty? Was it that he really didn't like what he was going to do, or already did? It was possible, but not likely. He'd never hesitated to deride the Phoenix before, and his hatred of Saffron was almost tangible at times. Then, there was a shout of surprise, and the thick of battle crowded out all other thoughts.  
  
Ukyou's battle spatula was out in a flash, as what could only be described as... inhuman creatures, flocked out of doors towards them, wielding spears and swords. They were like men, and women, except with brightly colored wings sprouting from their shoulders, horrible clawed hands, and talon-like feet. They made some sort of alarmed screeching howl that filled the wide hall, and without realizing it, Ukyou took a few frightened steps back. Mint jumped in front of her; just as a wave of needle sharp feathers filled the air. The young Musk's sword was moving at impossible speed, intercepting the missiles before they could reach her.  
  
To her sides, Wonton, Toristan, and Toma surged forward. Wonton simply plowed through the hailstorm of feathers, while Toristan's cloak opened up, and he unleashed a wave of his own-feathered darts at the enemy. Toma skidded to the side, sword drawn and, somehow, catching fire. His feet barely left the ground, yet he moved with an unbelievable grace and speed that belied his youth. While Wonton's massive left arm smashed an unsuspecting Phoenix guard into the wall, and Toristan took out his own wickedly curved blade, Toma claimed the first victory of the day, driving his sword almost up to the hilt in one of the enemy. The Prince of Togenkyou stepped back, his sword slipping out of flesh, blood slouching off its clean metal, with a surprised look on his face.  
  
Ukyou understood completely.  
  
He'd never killed before.  
  
The young Prince had practiced, and fought, and learned the maneuvers... but he had never truly tasted blood, or snuffed out a life by his own hand. She wondered if he realized how in over his head they both were. Herb reacted instantly, pushing Toma aside while another Phoenix warrior charged, spearhead ready to impale the young man from Togenkyou. The Musk Prince was too fast, however, and in a single motion yanked the weapon from the Birdman's hands and snapped it in half.  
  
Setting his feet apart, Herb's battle aura flexed, for only a second, before settling back into his body. With a roar, electric Ki erupted from his arms into pulsing energy blades. Pouring more effort into it, the jaded lines of Ki snapped into place, forming deadly blades of ethereal energy.  
  
"Hitou Ryu Zan Ha!!"   
  
He thrust his hands forward and across his chest, and crescent waves of bladed Ki tore from his arms, and into two armored Phoenix warriors. The first was hit in the chest, and had just managed to get his arms forward to attempt a block. They were obviously at least somewhat skilled in Ki, because the creature only lost its arms, and not its life, before it flew back against the wall, crumpled and unconscious. The second was not as fortunate, and slid in half at the waist, falling lifelessly to the ground, one arm twitching.   
  
"Oh... oh my god." Ukyou gulped, tasting bile. She'd never imagined... It'd be so red. So vividly red...  
  
"Damn it!" Herb cursed, and ran back to her, taking her roughly by the shoulders. "Ukyou! Ukyou! Damn it woman! Control yourself! Are you a warrior or a housewife?!"  
  
"I'm... a warrior." She looked up from the ground, into his eyes, still trying to hold herself together. One thought kept running through her mind: Do Not Look. Look at anything else.  
  
"My woman." He leaned in closer, talking softly into her left ear. "I'm here. All right? Calm down."  
  
"What am I...?" Toma gasped.  
  
"Silence!" Herb roared, and it was so. "Mint!"  
  
"Yes, Lord Herb?" Ukyou's ever present bodyguard stepped forward.  
  
"Get Ukyou out of here. I'm entrusting you alone with her personal safety. Rendezvous with Sumac and the others in the Old Village below."  
  
"But, Herb... I... I cannot just abandon..."  
  
"You will do as I command, Mint!" Herb fixed him with a glare terrible in its intensity. "Do as I say! NOW!"  
  
"Y... yes." Mint gulped, grabbed Ukyou's arm, and headed back the way they came.  
  
"I know you will not fail me!" Herb called out to them, the quickly turned to Toma. "Cousin..."  
  
"Herb." Toma cringed, expecting to be chewed out for hesitating. He just wasn't ready for...  
  
"Cousin... Cover my back. I'm trusting you," he said and waited for the Togenkyou Prince to nod affirmative. Herb then addressed Toristan and Wonton, "You two, follow me. Stick close. It only gets worse from here on."  
  
***  
  
Sumac always liked to think of himself as a little slice of hell on earth when it came to fighting. Standing over his latest victim, the bladed end of his polearm dug deeply in his defeated opponent's abdomen, the elder wolf-Musk gave it a slight twist, evoking a scream of pain from his prone target. Leaning over slightly, looking into the man's eyes, Sumac smiled.  
  
"I've always heard that gaping stomach wounds are the most painful... horrible... way to die." With a soft laugh, Sumac drew back and pulled the blade out of the beaten and bleeding Phoenix Warrior's gut. "Do me a favor. When you get to hell, tell 'em Sumac sent you, ok?"  
  
With a feral snarl, the wolf-blood turned to the greater melee all around him. The entire Old Village was aflame, thanks to his handpicked terror troops. He'd trained each and every one of them for this moment. The support of the Togenkyou Auxiliaries and reserves was just gravy. Not necessary, but not exactly unwanted either. It'd have been nice if the airship could handle carrying a division of heavy assault Musk into battle here, but it would only have been overkill anyway.  
  
"Then again... I love overkill!" Sumac charged into the thick of the remaining resistance fighting. It had greatly decreased, as those who fought back died at the hands of Musk Steel, and those who could not fight took to wing and tried to make their escape, running the gauntlet of Togenkyou archers ordered to target anyone attempting to flee the burning pyre that was the Old Phoenix Village.  
  
Generations ago, this had been the original village where the peasants had developed into the Phoenix Tribe, as a direct result of the Jusendo Observatory and the Cursed Spring there. They drank the water, and over time, took on birdlike traits. For a time, they had continued to live in the village, before the First Saffron had organized construction on the ruins of the freshly conquered Jusendo Observatory and Phoenix Mountain. Over time, the Phoenix had tunneled into the mountain, and made it their home and their fortress, but the peasantry... they still worked the fields down below, like ungifted 'landlings.' So the Old village had survived into the present.  
  
Until now; now, it burned.  
  
Herb had given Sumac total authority to get as much attention from the Phoenix Legions as possible in his attack on the place, allowing him and his little cadre to work their way in and get to Saffron himself. It was an opportunity Sumac had looked forward to with great relish and anticipation. He was given a free hand to cause as much havoc and destruction as he wanted... to splurge, so to speak.  
  
And splurge he was.  
  
Swinging his weapon in a great arc, he cut a weary and wounded Phoenix man in half just above the second rib bone. The heavy, strong tempered Musk Steel cut through even tough flesh, bone and sinew with ease, and Sumac was hard pressed to find another target. His personal troops were moving about like true predators, sniffing out and destroying any opposition, or anything surviving, with terrible efficiency.   
  
"Bah!" Sumac called out with a snarl, fighting back the urge to howl. "This place is dead! Fall back! Let these scum bury their dead when they get the courage to return to the ground!"  
  
"Aye!" A chorus of voices returned from all around him.  
  
Truthfully, the Phoenix warriors were no cowards. They had fallen back to concentrate on driving the greater threat, the Lucky Gods airship, back from Phoenix Mountain itself. Sumac knew that the airship was only fighting a holding action, and that the full weight of the Phoenix legions would force it to withdraw. When that time came, large swaths of otherwise occupied enemies would descend down on Sumac's own forces, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.   
  
Then he heard it.  
  
"Fall back I said!" Sumac narrowed his eyes and looked up at the rising base of Phoenix Mountain. Overhead, and obscured by the fire of the village, something quietly ascended amid the chaos, going around to the far side of the Mountain. Sumac would barely have given the helicopter any attention, except that he knew what it was, where it was going, and when it was going to make its entrance in the battle. He gave the black silhouette a quick two-fingered salute, before going back to his troops.   
  
"Go get 'em."  
  
***  
  
Japan  
  
Deep in the Minami Alps, the air was still enough to hear a pine needle fall to the earth. Or nearly so. There was silence aside from a few small woodland birds, and the sound of the wind moving through endless waves of branches, and lastly, the even, deep breathing of two martial artists in training. Assorted gear lay around them in a relatively neat fashion, and two packs rested meters away, each leaning against a different tree.   
  
In the center of it all, the two were like statues, motionless and cross-legged, facing each other, one hand forward, one hand to the side and in the air, curled into a fist. Only the slow intake of breath from one signaled any evidence of life. His pigtail crept over his shoulder blades as he let air in, but otherwise his body was perfectly still, and his mind focused on his opponent entirely.  
  
The other martial artist's right arm, drawn back as it was, tensed for a second, before releasing the energy back into the body. The bandanna'ed one was not quite ready, it seemed, and as his eyes refocused on Ranma, searching for any signs of intent or weakness to exploit, a single oversized canine poked out over his lower lip. Smirking, Ryouga regarded his pigtailed foe.  
  
"Enough! I have you now, Saotome... You have no chance to survive."  
  
"You're all talk, Hibiki. Put up or shut up."  
  
"I'll admit your record is impressive." Ryouga's fisted hand clenched even tighter. "But I can read your moves perfectly now. Admit it! Your power is nothing to me now!"  
  
Ranma laughed.  
  
"Ha! You fool! Did you truly think you had seen the extent of by ability?!"  
  
"What? Impossible!"  
  
"Yes! You think your power is greater than mine, but I have been hiding my own power! Until now! Now, I unleash it on you! Prepare yourself, Hibiki!"  
  
"Very well," Ryouga's hand shot forward, just as Ranma's did  
  
"Die!!"  
  
"Eat it!!"  
  
...  
  
"Rock beats scissors!" Ryouga shook his fist for emphasis.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ranma grumbled. "You win this round. I'm still ahead by seven points."  
  
"Again, then!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
The two got back into position, one hand forward, one held back to strike. Ranma opted for a slightly different version this time around, and Ryouga noted it. He kept a mental inventory of his opponent's posture, blood flow, breathing, muscle tension, and other physiological factors his enhanced senses were able to glean at the range they were from each other. The two warrior's respective battle auras had been 'active' and subdued for nearly the entire day, and it was beginning to get mentally taxing keeping it in check and under control, while concentrating on determining Ranma's next move.  
  
More important than simple observation was the cultivation of an expanded version of a martial artist's natural ability to sense approaching danger. Ryouga was well aware that Ranma had an excellent sense of approaching danger, except when it came to Akane (or perhaps he simply ignored it in those cases)... regardless, Saotome Ranma was a difficult man to catch by surprise. Ryouga had always been a halfhearted ambusher. He always liked the surprise and cunning of a good ambush attack, but equally disliked the cowardice of it. It was why he usually coupled a surprise attack with some sort of verbal warning, to get the best of both worlds. Though, in reality, it was more like a poor compromise.  
  
His danger sense had become steadily similarly well developed over time. Water related attacks and hazards still gave him a hard time, especially in Nerima, but most physical attacks he had a good chance of 'feeling' before they got him. The sense had actually dulled recently, as a result of his body hardening, and his creation of reactive clothing in the form of the Tekimen Kongou Gishu. So reawakening and improving on it had been one of his primary objectives when he finally got time for a good, long, hard training trip to the mountains.   
  
Granted, using a game of 'Scissors, Paper, and Rock' wouldn't normally fall under the category of eliciting a response from anyone's danger sense, in practice, it did the trick, and was far less exhausting and distracting than outright fighting. Already, he could feel his aura and his Ki reaching out, sufficing the air around them like an invisible web. He could feel the buzzing of a fly, somewhere to his right, like seeing something in the periphery of one's vision. His eyes, his mind, his Ki... all were centered on Ranma, now. Trying to predict his next move, not just based on something as mundane as visual cues, but an almost spiritual ability to predict.   
  
He saw it for a heartbeat.  
  
A flash, like a picture... but it went by too quickly to see, even with the mind.   
  
"Draw time, Saotome!" Ryouga finalized his own move, and snorted loudly.  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
Ranma's own smug smile unnerved the bandanna'ed martial artist.  
  
"Taste... my WRATH!!!"  
  
...  
  
"Paper."  
  
"Paper."  
  
"Damn it." Ryouga shook his head and pulled his hand back. "I was sure I had you that time."  
  
"Score is still one hundred and fifty eight to one hundred and fifty one."  
  
"Do you know we've been at this for almost eight hours?"  
  
"Hey," Ranma said as he shrugged. "As long as I'm winning, I don't care. You wanna quit now?"  
  
"No! I'll beat you yet, you stinking raisin thief!"  
  
"You're all talk, Hibiki!" Ranma smirked and drew his hand back. Ryouga may be all talk, but his training exercises were far from useless. Of course, he'd have to stay at least a step or two ahead of Ryouga, given the latter's more impressive physical prowess, but finesse with Ki had never been Ryouga's strength. He was more of a brute force type person, in mind and in body. They were about to start another round when ...something interrupted. It was like a sharp smell: horseradish or something similar, and Ranma's concentration was thrown off.  
  
"Did you feel that?" Ryouga asked, looking to the west.  
  
"Yeah..." Ranma sniffed, clearing his nose. "Weird."  
  
***  
  
Saffron jumped up out of bed.   
  
"Who dares...?"  
  
The group of men advanced.  
  
"Stay back!" Saffron held forward the Kinjakan. "Guards! Kiima! Madras! Kulcha!"  
  
Behind the group, someone moved, letting out a low groan.  
  
"Madras!" Saffron recognized the old man's voice well enough and hissed at the advancing group of men. "You'll pay for this!!"  
  
Spinning the Kinjakan, Saffron snapped the weapon back, letting the disk shoot out in a blur. One of the cloaked men tried to block the attack, and even grabbed the weapon, only to be carried by it off the Imperial balcony and down out of sight. Wielding the rest of the staff, the boy king took a step back. In the distance, an explosion sounded, and dark smoke wafted through the air. The lead man reached into his cloak, and pulled out a weapon, an unusual outsider weapon... the others were quick to follow, taking aim at the stunned Saffron.  
  
"Wait... what are you...?"  
  
The staccato ring of silenced gunfire cut him off.  
  
***   
  
"DIE already!!!"  
  
Herb's palms lowered, ghostly wisps of smoke wafting between his fingers. His breathing was heavy, but the Musk Prince was uninjured, aside from a small cut on his arm. Around him, crushed and burning Phoenix warriors, members of Kiima's Elite Imperial Guard, collapsed at his feet. The stench of burnt flesh was almost unbearable. Resistance had increased dramatically as they got closer to Saffron. Much more than Herb had expected. Either the airship had been driven off early, or the warriors in the Old Village had been driven back.  
  
Which would make it much more difficult to escape, either way.   
  
"You'll not get past me!" Kiima threw aside the blasted and half melted shield she had been holding, and brought her sword forward.  
  
"Infuriating woman," Herb spat off to the side as he said it, and built up his Ki for another blast. He'd been fighting against this damn woman's delaying action for too long, and reinforcements kept pouring down from above in the massive cavern where Kiima had intercepted them.   
  
Wonton was badly wounded, but continuing on, heedless of his own injuries, and the hundreds of cuts and bleeding slashes he'd suffered. The poor bastard even had four arrows buried in his chest and arms, but steadfastly kept going. Toristan was slightly better off, because he was quicker, and less prone to rushing bull-headed into the attack. His sword was bloody, and his breathing erratic. His ever-present mask was splashed with crimson, and cracked near the left side.   
  
"Herb!" Toma jumped forward, the boy's clothes torn and ragged, but his voice steady. "Go forward! I will deal with this woman! Toristan! Wonton! Hold the bridge, no matter the cost!"  
  
Herb gave the younger Prince a quick nod of thanks, flared his Ki, and took to the air. Kiima jumped to try and get to him, but a torrent of 'flame' from Prince Toma cut her short of her goal. Wings flapping furiously, she turned around to try and reorient herself at the Musk Prince.  
  
"Thousand Wings of the Seabird!!"  
  
"Enough!" Herb's hands glowed with power, as he twisted in midair. "Dragon Spirit Flight!!"  
  
As the Musk Prince moved, turning upwards, flaming Ki spheres bounced off the walls and from his hand into the incoming Ki enhanced feathers, taking them out one by one in a flurry of tiny immolating explosions. In seconds, Herb had neutralized the entire attack, and was nearly across to the other side of the cavern.   
  
"I won't allow you to escape!" Kiima's wings spread for another attack, when something hard and fast plowed into her back. Spinning uncontrollably, she landed in a heap before collecting herself and flipping up onto her feet. Staring at her with determination in his eyes, Toma held his sword forward, flames lapping up all around him like great tendrils.   
  
"Worry about yourself." Toma ground his teeth together. "Worry about ME!"  
  
"Landling Boy," Kiima's said and her own sword shot forward. "You can't even begin to comprehend what I'm going to do to you for this."  
  
As the two leaders clashed, blade on blade, Wonton bared his teeth, and backhanded yet another attacking Phoenix warrior. Though stunned, the birdman returned with a vengeance, and two of his comrades, short swords and claws driving the large dog-man back. Wonton's open palms, despite immensely thick skin, and two layers of toughened leather armor, were little more than a bloody mess as he frantically parried the attacks.   
  
Toristan saw his comrade in trouble, but had little time to even contemplate going to his aid. He was hard pressed simply to match Kiima's Imperial Guards, and just barely pivoted out of the way as a screeching female with viciously glowing eyes made a mad lunge at him with a sword from the side. If they had come at them just a few at a time it would be one thing, but as it was, he and Wonton were holding off nearly six zealous guardsmen, just by themselves, while at the same time looking out for arrows from above.   
  
Unfortunately, Kiima and her cadre had caught them in the worst possible place. They were fighting in what seemed to be a huge atrium, crisscrossed by long wooden poles, which provided the only means of crossing, short of flight. If they had been fighting in a hallway, it'd be far easier. Worse, they couldn't even move around, jumping from one pole to the other, without losing their way.  
  
And where was his Prince?  
  
"Damn it!" Toristan surged forward, overcoming the resistance of a determined guardsman's blade with brute strength, pushing her back and away. "Prince Toma! Where...?"  
  
"I have you now!" Toma back flipped away, and off the back of a distracted bow-wielding Phoenix. He took to the air naturally, sword gleaming in the half-light. Left hand forward, he concentrated, and projected the image of a flurry of sword-like Ki projectiles leaving his palm.   
  
"What in Heaven?" Kiima balked, and threw her wings forward, backing off and firing her signature attack. "Thousand Wings of the Seabird!!"  
  
Toma smirked, and saw that her attacks were trying to intercept his own, except that his 'attack' was actually an illusion. Without himself as the target, it was child's play to avoid the razor sharp projectiles. Dodging and weaving amid the chaos caused by Kiima's frantic attack, Toma spun into his own signature attack.  
  
"Yogan Ran Digi Dan!!"   
  
Toma thrust the illusion attack out with his sword, unleashing fiery fury in a broad swath in front of him. Unfortunately, Kiima was quick, damn quick, and avoided the initial gout. Unleashing another one, Toma flexed his Ki, and teleported, up in the air, while unleashing yet another wave of flame.  
  
"Hold still, damn you!" He yelled, rapidly growing frustrated.  
  
Toma barely had time to raise his sword to block, as Kiima rushed up from below, aiming to cut him in half at the waist. The bird woman then kicked up and out, catching the young warrior in the chin. Already falling from his position, Toma only dully felt his back impact something hard, which splintered beneath him. Opening his eyes, and pushing off slightly, he managed another block, as Kiima crashed down and into him at full speed. Sparks danced from their swords, but Kiima's right knee hit home, and Toma spit blood as it buried into his midriff.  
  
With a creak and a groan, the wooden bridge beneath them finally gave way and cracked down the middle. Leaning back, Toma hastily teleported again, taking Kiima with him. Unfortunately, his teleport ability was short range, and limited to places he well remembered, or could visualize properly. Worse, it was taxing, and he could already feel his Ki reserves ebbing.   
  
"Where the...?" Kiima looked around, disoriented. They were right below the falling bridge, now, when before they had been on top of it. Surprised, Kiima didn't have a chance to act, before her advantageous position became quite the opposite. One half of the falling wooden bridge plowed into her from behind, and as Toma rolled out from under her in midair, he just barely had the time and opportunity to catch hold of another bridge. Digging his nails into it, and holding on for dear life, the Prince of Togenkyou climbed back up and onto his feet, breathing heavily.  
  
"Finally... Good riddance," Toma grunted, looking down into the pit where Kiima had fallen. "Now..."   
  
He spun, as his danger sense flared. Not fast enough, however, the sting of metal tore into his arm. High above, swarms of archers descended, bows drawn. Silently, he cursed, and readied himself.  
  
Far from the battle in the Atrium, Herb rounded the corner at top speed. He was alone, now, and the sounds of battle from behind had long since faded. He was just a blur, now, flashing through the air faster than a normal person could follow with their eyes. No matter. They could not have stopped him, anyway. Abducting Saffron was out of the question now. Killing him, at least for a while, would have to suffice. And though he was running the risk of exhausting his Ki, he had to turn back and help get Toma and his two men out. Abandoning them was totally out of the question.  
  
"There! The door!" Herb's hands closed into fists, and with two quick Ki blasts, the heavy wood and iron doors were blasted off their immense hinges. He flew through without pausing, and landed on the Great Phoenix Throne Room. It was huge by any definition of the word, but also empty. Small fires were busy consuming the drapes and the royal carpeting...  
  
And the bodies.  
  
There were probably ten or twelve of them in all, most of them probably female, and all burning fiercely. Had Saffron gone mad and set fire to his harem and personal guard? What the hell was going on? Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, Herb dashed through the burning curtains and silk, and into the young Saffron's bedroom balcony. Searching, the Musk prince saw more burning bodies, and the lit up remains of what was probably the godchild's bed and toys...  
  
No Saffron.  
  
"Where the hell are you, Saffron? I, Prince Herb the Fifth, son of King Herb the Fourth, Lord of the Musk, Blood of the Dragon, One True Son and Heir to the Cursed Springs, have returned to claim what is mine! Show yourself, you perverse bastard! Show yourself, or be damned forever in the eyes of our ancestors!!"  
  
Herb breathing was in ragged gasps now.  
  
Disappointment.  
  
Surprise.  
  
Anger.  
  
"Damn you! I'll tear this place APART if I have to... to..."  
  
Herb's anger danced around his body, his blood red aura blending into the fires all around him. Eyes wide, the Musk Prince walked quickly to a spot near the corner of the room, where a single staff lay, on the ground. Herb recognized it instantly: the Kinjakan, minus the headpiece. The Kinjakan was one of two legendary Musk staves crafted one thousand five hundred years ago, when the Jyusenkyou valley had been first colonized. It functioned as the 'hot' trigger for the source of the springs, in Lower Jusendo, which was how the Phoenix people had been able to steal it. Its brother-staff, the Gekkaja, had the opposite effect, ensuring a constant flow of cold water.   
  
Picking up the weapon, Herb saw blood on his fingers.  
  
"What the hell?" The Musk Prince looked down, and saw the burnt remains of what might have once been clothes... a child's clothes. There were also small spots of blood underneath it, and a few on the wall.  
  
Growling, Herb held the Kinjakan firmly, and headed back the way he came. Saffron was obviously not around, or had possibly been betrayed... or... or something. Feeling his energy reserves starting to dwindle he sent a small pulse of Ki into the weapon. After only a second, the headpiece flew in through the open balcony nearby, securing itself into place on the staff. Then Herb flipped the Kinjakan around, the rounded head to the ground, and jumped on it. Tightening his hold on the handle, it took off like a rocket. Twisting and turning, he came back out into the Atrium, still filled with the sounds of intense combat.   
  
"Toma! Toristan! Wonton!" Herb grabbed the younger warrior as he passed, turned around briefly to knock aside a Phoenix man, and give Toristan a quick pickup. Spinning quickly, Herb looked around for the last of Toma's bodyguards, and saw him limply fighting off two Phoenix, still holding the bridge despite his wounds.   
  
"Toma! Take the handles!" Herb directed him to the Kinjakan, and jumped off, once again taking flight. Firing a trio of weak blasts to scare off the two opportunistic Phoenix, he managed to try and wrap one arm around Wonton's great girth. Arm straining, and Ki falling below acceptable levels; Herb pushed harder trying to keep up with Toma and Toristan on the fast moving Kinjakan. Trying to ignore the fire in his belly, and hoping that Toma knew the way to go, Herb concentrated on simply keeping going.  
  
The world around him just seemed like a blur.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, they crashed out of the lowest levels of Phoenix Mountain, and into the cool natural air outside. The next thing Herb remembered was crashing down, his energy totally spent, onto the desk of the parked airship, miles from Phoenix Mountain. The rendezvous point... his mind reminded him. He had made it.  
  
"Ukyou!"  
  
He snapped awake, every muscle aflame from the effort of just sitting upright. Next to him, he saw Wonton, but didn't give the man another thought. Looking around the burnt and body strewn deck, arrows sticking out of the hardwood like giant pins, he saw Bishamonten, organizing the movement of the wounded, but passed him by. Then, Herb saw something white: a bow, and a gleaming, clean, metallic surface. Her weapon! The world around him seemed to disappear.  
  
"Ukyou!" He found her, leaning against a large barrel, eyes bloodshot. Amazingly, for the first time, she didn't put up any resistance when he embraced her.   
  
"Ukyou." He repeated, looking at her, then to Mint, who was, as always, standing off to her side. "Is she?"  
  
"Unharmed, my Prince." Mint was cleaning his sword as he replied, "As you wished it."  
  
"Good. Very good, Mint. You have done me proud." Herb went back to Ukyou. "My stubborn woman... I told you..."  
  
"I know," she said, softly, "I'm... I'm sorry... I..."  
  
"Wonton?" Toma's voice cracked somewhere behind them. Herb and Ukyou both looked, speechless, while the younger Prince shook his bodyguard's still form, calling his name.  
  
"Damn it, Wonton! Damn... damn it..." Toma's eyes screwed shut, and with a violent swipe, he chased off the medic with the first aid kit hounding him to look at his arm, which still had the broken shaft of an arrow in it. Crystal tears fell from his eyes as he fell to his knees, pounding on the body. Behind his Prince, Toristan stood, his emotions hidden by his cracked, but still serviceable, mask.   
  
"Wonton..." Toma trailed off, and with a shudder through his whole body, stood up. Gradually, his eyes moved up from the ground to Herb, and then to Ukyou.  
  
"He held his ground," Toma's voice almost cracked again, but held. "He held that bridge, Herb. We were outnumbered... overwhelmed, but we held it. We held it. Next time... Next time... Don't send a woman to do a man's job! You hear me, Herb? I don't know how many of my men won't be returning to Togenkyou after today... but at least one...."  
  
Wiping his eyes, Toma, Lord of Togenkyou, stormed off, followed closely by Toristan. In Herb's arms, Ukyou started to cry. Holding her tight, for once not caring who saw this side of him, weakness or not, Herb closed his own eyes. All this... he had not expected... anticipated any of this. What had happened? Where had things gone astray? Was it all for nothing?  
  
***  
  
"Well, Doctor?"  
  
"The Subject is quite a specimen, Mr. Bishop. The find of a lifetime... We've gotten things from this subject that are even better than what we obtained through Project Rouge. As per your orders, we've catalogued all the measurements and put all the additional blood samples on ice. I've been in conference with several associates of mine in Japan and India in regards to the details. Frankly, I'm surprised you came so quickly."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes, sir... I was expecting at least a few more days to perform experiments. For example, the regeneration factor involved varies along the life cycle. There are also numerous proteins and cellular structures of note..."  
  
"You have the samples, do you not, Doctor?"  
  
The bearded doctor ran a hand through his sparsely woolen head.  
  
"Yes," he finally answered, "Of course. But a test on the specimen itself is much more fruitful..."  
  
"I can imagine how much you must enjoy slicing and dicing the little brat, Doctor Fukudome... but your research is only a side show. I have been waiting for this moment for almost fifty years." Bishop gave a knowing smile, and gestured to the thick glass cage where a small child was soundlessly crying.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Saffron... the power of immortality... he's an uncontrollable creature, you know. The Musk tried, and failed. You really think you can do better than they?"  
  
"I'm certain, sir. All I ask is a little more time..."  
  
"No, Doctor. You will watch, and learn... here and now." Bishop directed his attention to the man operating the atmospheric controls for the cage.  
  
"Cut off oxygen to the cage." Bishop crossed his arms, smugly. "That will retard his regeneration cycle... once the infant has suffocated, prep it for removal."  
  
"Just what are you doing, Mr. Bishop?" Fukudome watched impassively as oxygen was withdrawn from the cage, causing the partial pressure readings to fluctuate to different levels.  
  
"Hmm," Bishop said and licked his teeth, giving the Doctor a disinterested look. "Well, if you must know... Saffron is a Child of Jyusenkyou. He is also a creature of magic... Jyusenkyou's transforming effects meaning nothing, because it is countered by his regeneration. His magic simply cancels out the normal ability of Jyusenkyou to curse him, and in addition, it makes him immortal... indestructible. You may contain Saffron, for a time, but eventually he will rise again, like the legendary Phoenix. This... is the dilemma. How can Saffron be controlled, since he cannot be truly killed?"  
  
The doctor shrunk in on himself, unsure. "Such things are not my specialty..."  
  
Bishop chuckled. "Of course not. You are a man of science. But I am what you are, and what you are not. The Society is not the occult sect it once was, but if I wanted a purely scientific institute, I could have started one, couldn't I? Believe it or not, the Society's mystics did have some insight... especially Basil."  
  
"Basil, sir?"  
  
"An exiled Musk of an ancient line. His bloodline... her bloodline had been keeping the secrets of Jyusenkyou to itself for centuries. A friend of mine, and myself, were able to gleam what we needed from her, and I got the rest from the Society mystics, who had been searching for Jyusenkyou themselves. There is a way to control Saffron, Doctor. And now, I alone know of it."  
  
The Doctors' eyes betrayed his skepticism. Taking off his business suit and overcoat, Bishop laid them carefully aside, and snapped his fingers. A woman in a black suit came to his side, quickly, with a large glass of water. While Bishop undressed, another of his personal aides opened a small packet, sprinkling dust into the glass. The first woman then mixed it, careful not to spill any.  
  
"Instant Cursed Spring," Bishop explained, handing the last of his clothes to the Doctor. "Hold these, would you?"  
  
Standing before the two women, he held out his hands. With a splash, he shrunk down, his form distorting. The Doctor had seen it before, of course, on test subjects in their labs. It was the Jyusenkyou effect, the magical ability of the water to alter the basic Ki-state of a complex living organism. In animals, it caused what a layperson would call a 'mutation,' and in plants, which usually absorbed the water from a nearby spring, or spring source, it could cause unexpected growth, huge size, strange poisons, or even aggressive predatory behavior.  
  
With the water used up, the second woman in black kneeled down, and picked up the large python. It seemed relaxed, and curled up in her arms while she carried it. Doctor Fukudome hurried to follow them, still carrying Bishop's clothes, while they walked into the next lab down, where two sub-researchers were transporting the now suffocated Saffron-child, which had reverted to its base line 'egg' form after brain death.   
  
"Mr... Mr. Bishop?" The doctor asked, as the two women directed the egg placed on a small cushion on the floor. Then the one holding Bishop-snake put him down nearby.  
  
"Wait a second... you can't do this... you have no idea what might happen! You could be killed!"  
  
The snake didn't pay him any heed, and struck at the egg with an instinctive speed. It wasted no time in unhinging its jaw, and swallowing it. There was a stunned silence in the lab, as the snake worked against time. The two women aides checked their watches, and nodded to each other. The woman that had held Bishop earlier reached into her jacket pocket, and took out a canteen. On the floor, the snake looked somewhat hurriedly at her, and received a shower of warm water.  
  
The water didn't work at first. Then, with a blinding flash, the reptile's body began to bend and twist, as it reconfigured from the inside out. The Jyusenkyou water was forcing him to metabolize, to standardize the body so that it could be changed by the magic of the water. But if the Saffron egg was being broken down into energy and heat that could be absorbed by the body...  
  
"Step back!" The Doctor yelled, just as another bright flash came from the writhing form on the floor. And then, suddenly and without warning, it erupted in flame.  
  
"The sprinklers!" One of the women jumped up and twisted the sprinkler head before cold water could explode from it. The researchers present didn't hesitate to make their escape, as the burning mass on the floor churned and turned paint white, like it'd been bleached a dozen times over. Cold water kept raining down from unbroken sprinklers, while the two women kept trying to bend any of them near the transformation.  
  
"You idiots! Get out of there!!" The Doctor could feel the heat on his face from whatever was going on, but the two women in black kept working. Only when nearby equipment began to spark and steam rise from the ground did they back off. The first jumped over what looked like a white tendril, but the second tripped on something on the now impossible to see floor, and disappeared, screaming, into the steam.  
  
"Close the damn door!"   
  
The second woman ran for it, but fell forward as something took her by the ankle. The sound of her nails on the tile floor was the last sound she made. With a whirr, the heavy lab door closed, locked, and vacuum sealed itself. Through the thick glass window, the fire somehow grew exponentially. Along the walls, more equipment sparked and melted in the pyre.   
  
"Temperature inside the room is in excess of 1000 degrees Kelvin and rising!" one of the sub-researchers gasped, checking the temperature gauge next to the door. "That window will shatter any second now! Fused Silica can't handle that kind of heat!"  
  
"Is Lab 2 temperature shielded to handle something like that?"   
  
"I... I don't think so!"  
  
"Damn it all! We don't have a choice!"  
  
Fukudome started herding the three other scientists to the next Lab down, through a small airlock. With a thunderous explosion, the door between the last lab, and the one Bishop had been in gave way, thick shards of half molten fused silica filling the air, heralding a wave of fire and superheated air hot enough to melt a rock face. Fukudome cringed, expecting the same type of window, and heavy airlock door, that they were behind to give way.   
  
But it held.  
  
"Temperature ...dropping." A sub-researcher swallowed hard, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Let's hope..."  
  
"Look!" Fukudome pointed to the resin-glass window, his voice barely a whisper, but still carrying clearly in the silence of the moment. The other scientists clustered around the window, eyes wide. Amid the still raging madness of the inferno, something was walking towards them: a dark outline, a human figure, standing in the burning hell of the destroyed Lab. In the blink of an eye, the flames were gone - extinguished.  
  
And the door opened.  
  
"Gentlemen, be calm," The figure spoke, in a voice like far off thunder, both hands flexing eagerly. "All things considered... I'd say things couldn't have turned out more splendidly."  
  
***  
  
Miles away, in the Guide's House, a young woman woke up screaming. Gasping, desperately trying to find her breath, Rouge looked down at her still shaking hands.  
  
"What's... what's happening to us?"  
  
No answer was forthcoming. 


	10. Learning Curve part 25

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just Kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXV (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
102 1898.  
  
Herb's burnt and torn cape fluttered out behind him in the stale wet air. Beams of light and energy crisscrossed his vision, his enemy's lifeless body a still darkness behind him. Ki blazed, a ferocious red and yellow, all about him, in and out of the green orbs he had for eyes, tearing at his soul for release. He was a living maelstrom of energy and fury and death, every desire, every thought, every whim echoed a thousand fold into a terrible chorus that seemed to shake the very earth.   
  
26 474.  
  
Herb felt the Serpent push aside the Dragon. He felt his blood pulse and boil. He felt his forearms burn and itch. He was so close to being free... so close to throwing off every inhibition, every trapping of restraint. He would become, he could become, that tireless undying machine that was the legacy of his father, his grandfather, and every one of his cursed line back seventeen generations and thousands of years. The wild clarion call sounded in his ears.  
  
106 1894.  
  
He cried out against it.  
  
27 473.  
  
He burnt it from his mind.  
  
110 1890.  
  
The flames bit into him, like a refreshing storm of pain along every nerve of his body. It brought back his father's voice, his father's lessons, and his father's discipline. He was power, but he was control. Perfect control. Perfect balance. Perfect order.   
  
28 472.  
  
The flames disappeared, and the Serpent's voice faded into nothingness, replaced by the comforting hum of the Dragon, and the ordered symphony of the blood. It was his burden, and he carried it willingly - gladly. It was his purpose, and his connection to a history long lost. Long buried, and left buried, for the good of all men. Composing himself, and tossing his long hair over his left shoulder with a flick of the wrist, he walked over his opponent's corpse, gradually leaving the darkness and entering the light.  
  
The Musk Dynasty would take this day as their own.  
  
***  
  
It began with a man... and a monster. Back when the world was old, but mankind was young. His name was Sho Amaun Ma'at, or as the Musk were to call him: 'The Grand Father.' One hundred and forty centuries ago, he was born, though exactly where had long since been lost to time. It was an age of night and fear, for dark things, creatures of myth and legend, roamed freely in man's infancy, and greatest and darkest of them all was the Great Serpent. The tempter. The corrupter. The Great Serpent was old, even among ancients, but had been growing feeble and dependant on sacrifice and servitude over the ages. It came and it consumed, subverting and corrupting those it came across into doing it's bidding.  
  
Some say Amaun shared blood with the creature, which was known to take human form. Yet Amaun shared nothing with the Great Serpent, save its rage and its power, for among men, Sho Amaun Ma'at was the most powerful to live. He hunted the Great Serpent as only a man possessed could, tracking it across sea and desert, untiring, unyielding. When it flew, he chased. When it hid among men, he rooted it out. When it corrupted and sent those he loved to oppose him, Amaun slew them.   
  
And so it came that, after a lifetime, the Great Serpent retreated to an island in the Heart of the Sea, and Amaun followed. Undeterred by the native population that had been long since corrupted by the Serpent, the Hunter tracked his Prey to the center of the island, and into a great cave. There, finally, the Serpent faced its hunter, first in human form. It claimed Kinship, it claimed fellowship - but Amaun would not be deterred. The battle raged amid the glassy pools of water below them, in the great temple cave of those long forgotten ancient peoples. In the fight, Amaun's loyal hound was struck down into one of the pools, beside three large stones. Outraged by this final loss, built upon so many countless others, the man slew the monster, and the Great Serpent fell, dead, great gouts of blood and flame issuing from it in equal measure.  
  
***  
  
Pearl Adams was intimately familiar with the Tendo home. It was a slightly less than modest two-story building, four bedrooms on the second floor, and two on the first. The outer and inner baths were to the side on the first floor, the family room and Kitchen nearly adjacent. The Dojo was largely a non-factor, isolated on the east side of the property, as was the small storage shed. There were two entrances: one normal, one for martial arts challenges that led directly to the Dojo through a small winding path. A good-sized koi pond dominated the western quarter of the land.   
  
The most vulnerable point was the Kitchen, and would provide the optimal effect if an explosion were triggered. The family room was a poor target, primarily because of was off to the upper left of the house, and because if was directly under the living quarters of three non-combatants who were only tertiary targets at best. Or worst. Intelligence revealed it likely that the main targets would move into the Dojo, which was fine with Adams, though it complicated their initial strike plans somewhat. He was accustomed to observing and studying the house from afar, listening or watching through one of several clandestine bugs that had been smuggled into the place. They had none in the Dojo, however, hence the official reason for his visit. Truthfully, he was curious.  
  
From where Pearl Adams currently stood, the Tendo property had a far more comforting and homey feel that he'd imagined, nothing like the hellhole he'd called home for all of ten years. Or perhaps it was just the company he was in. To his side, Kasumi gave him a soft smile - a knowing and understanding smile that both warmed him, and made him feel deeply uncomfortable. She couldn't possibly know he worked for a ruthless man named Bishop Chen, who by now ran the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society alone, and with an iron hand. Bishop had a sprinkling of truly fanatical supporters, hidden among the entire Society: they were his unseen, unblinking, unwavering eyes and ears, watching and listening for any signs of weakness or betrayal. Kasumi's warm smile betrayed no knowledge of his purpose here in Japan - to watch and spy on numerous residential martial artists, and when ordered, either assassinate or capture them.   
  
Lately, he'd heard that Bishop favored the former strategy more and more.  
  
They were part of Operation Clean House, which Adams assumed meant the nearly worldwide removal of those with 'unique talents.' Adams was only an intermediate player in the Operation, in charge of half of the Japanese operations, with their focus on Tokyo. He knew another group from the Society was also operating, but they weren't mercenaries like he was. Most likely, they were Society muscle from the Muscle or Wind Sword Cults. Bishop feared them, he supposed, these martial artists of Japan and China, these supermen and women.  
  
"So this is the legendary Tendo Dojo," he said, hands holding a small package without any sign of nervousness. He resisted the urge and instinct to put a hand in his pocket, an obvious sign of deceit that the middle Tendo daughter would almost certainly pick up on. From his left elbow a plastic bag held a carton of milk and a bottle of soy sauce. In the crook of his right arm, he easily supported Kasumi's bag of groceries.   
  
"It looks very pretty at night. When there aren't any holes in it," Kasumi said the last half of the sentence more softly, yet also with a hint of worry.   
  
"Don't worry about them Kasumi-san." He kept his voice perfectly controlled. In all honesty, he couldn't really have blamed Bishop for fearing these martial artists of Nerima, and elsewhere. He had not totally understood the magnitude of what they wanted of him when he'd first been assigned to the Operation, reassigned from simple Society technical oversight and security command in the People's Republic. The eggheads there had talked about chi, and chi infusion, and chi manipulation, the 'internal stimulation of the hypothalamus via an unknown medium,' and hosts of other things he really didn't understand. He hadn't really cared enough to.  
  
Then he saw them.  
  
He saw film, in slow motion, sometimes one eighths speed, sometimes frame by digital frame. He saw a high school boy, Saotome Ranma, punch so fast that even the Society high-speed digital cameras couldn't totally follow his attacks. He saw a 'low level threat,' one Kuno Tatewaki, slice clean through a solid rock with a wooden practice sword. He had seen another subject (one of the Ranma boy's contemporaries) throw a bloody car over twenty feet, in a fit of pique, and then uproot a concrete telephone pole with one hand. They all seemed to routinely jump thirty or more feet in a single bound, defying physics and a rational world with effortless ease and aplomb. These were not men and women; these were monsters of terrible power hidden beneath human skin.  
  
That the people of Nerima, and even neighboring Wards, had over time simply become accustomed to these things astounded him no end. Or perhaps, as many Japanese were like, they just ignored what they didn't want to see or believe. Adams carefully hid his concern and amazement from his colleagues, who would likely see it as foolishness. Around the people he worked with, even a small sign of weakness was not something healthy to cultivate. He hid it from them with an ease that came from years of practice.  
  
"Shall we go in?" he asked, pleasantly. "I admit I'm sort of eager to see the place."  
  
"There will be plenty of time. It isn't really that interesting, Adams-san." Kasumi led him in at a gentle pace, and he found himself happy to follow. As he entered, however, and took off his shoes, his mind also noted the layout of the house: the structure, the construction, available blind spots and points of entry. His thoughts disgraced him, and for the first time, he regretted his first instinct. He wasn't armed, and if and when he did approach this house in that fashion, he would only actually enter it as a last resort. Well armed or not, he'd be taken apart in a heartbeat by any of his assigned targets. A quick and unnoticeable breathing exercise cleared his mind and calmed him.  
  
"I hope I'm not intruding too much," he said, his voice steady. "I wouldn't want to seem like a freeloader. And I don't really have..."  
  
"Please don't worry over it," Kasumi said, her voice glad for his presence here. He handed her the small plastic bag with the milk and soy sauce. They had met once more, by apparent coincidence, at the market they both frequented. The coincidence was, of course, a carefully crafted illusion. Adams and his cadre were well aware of many of the goings on in the Tendo household, and Kasumi had become their primary link.  
  
She was their carrier. Her codename had become 'Key,' just as the many bugs they worked into the house were 'Guests' and the house itself was the 'Door.' Kasumi was their way in. They had known when she left, and it had been fairly obvious why, though they had lost the very valuable 'flower bug' that had found itself in the family room. As he passed what was identified as the room of an old man named 'Happosai' and to the entrance of the Kitchen, he looked into the family room and saw a small clear vase on the table, replete with fresh tiger lilies, the same number and type of flowers that he'd given her the last time they met. She had thrown out the old ones, a week old, and replaced them with identical new ones - hence how they'd lost the bug. It annoyed him and deeply troubled him at the same time that she had... cared.  
  
He quickly quenched both feelings.  
  
"Where should I put this?" He indicated the wrapped package in his hands, held carefully in a way that likely seemed somewhat shy and vulnerable. Adams wondered, in that instant, whether he'd be delivering something truly horrible the next time he visited her.  
  
"On the table is fine," she said, from the Kitchen, busy putting things away neatly, orderly, everything where it should be.   
  
"All Righty." He let his tongue roll, and said the phrase in English. She always smiled when he said little things like that when they talked, or when he offered to do things for her. He passed the room belonging to the one she called Grandfather Happosai, and looked in. The little troll wasn't present at the moment, something for which Adams was very grateful. Happosai was a pervert and a nuisance. Though he wasn't really sitting on what one would call the moral high ground, it still annoyed him on general principle. He would have to be taken out carefully and with overwhelming force if... when... the time came. At least this Happosai seemed content to molest women outside the house, and occasionally the youngest Tendo girl, and not Kasumi.   
  
He wondered, then, why the old man also avoided the middle Tendo girl.  
  
"Mind if I look around a little, Kasumi-san?"  
  
"You are our guest; please feel free to make yourself at home," she replied, unsuspecting. If she did suspect, if she did know anything of the true him, she would never let him out of her sight, and never let him wander unchecked.   
  
"Thank you very much. This is so much nicer and neater than my messy old apartment," he complimented the family, as he had planned to continue doing for some time, with different people, and took in the layout. The doors presented a good possibility, the outdoors area, especially the porch and near the koi pond, another.   
  
"If you wouldn't mind, I could help clean..."  
  
Adam's heart jumped a beat, as he walked outside onto the porch. She was bolder than he had anticipated. He needed to throw off any possible interest in his apartment, at all costs.   
  
"My apartment is too much of a bachelor pad. I think my roommates prefer it that way, really. Thanks, anyway." He stressed the word roommates, and waited for a reply.  
  
"Boys will be boys," she finally said, from inside the house. He imagined hearing a trace of disappointment. The rebuff was sharp, but beyond necessary. Beyond necessary. Reaching into the light black and gold vest that he worse over his plain white shirt, Adams' fingers brushed by and picked up a small electronic bug, audio only. He made a single curious pass of his chosen targets.   
  
The bushes.  
  
Just under the porch.  
  
He was tempted to directly bug the koi pond, but decided against it. Too much risk of discovery, really. The little disks were quite small, with a tiny thin wire transmitter, and easily mistaken by anyone not really looking for it. They were designed for concealment, but their range was limited. Of course, they had planted a relay just outside the property, on a nearby telephone pole. It was larger, a black box, but it wouldn't be noticed or even investigated.   
  
He slowly walked inside, taking in a dramatic deep breath, sounding far more satisfied than he actually was. As he did, Kasumi walked in, carrying a tray with tea. Later, he would see to the rest of the house, and exploit any opportunities as they arose. He would remember the layout far more clearly, and it would work to his advantage and his plans. His plans to ruin this woman's life, and destroy everything she loved. However, before that, he would sit, and over tea, he would talk to this beautiful, serene woman who made an ordered life amid the chaos, and he would enjoy her company.  
  
And silently hate himself.   
  
***  
  
Turning to the pool, Amaun saw not his faithful tracker and companion, but a human woman, injured but alive. These cursed pools, used as ritual sites and burial grounds by the ancient peoples of the island, and focused on a ley line nexus - an area of incredible magic and power - amazed him. It was then that he noticed the three large stones lying in the pool; not stones at all, but eggs. They were eggs of the Great Serpent, which had lain dormant for unknown ages. With his fist, he smashed them, the three eggs in the pool, and from their remains rose three women, beautiful and fair: one of silver hair, one of gold, and one of pure onyx. With dulcet siren voices, they spoke to him.  
  
"Come, you who are Child of Man. Come unto us, and we will birth you the greatest of just progeny, so that you and your glory will rule all men unto the end of days. You have bled your weight; reap your rewards for all mankind."  
  
Amaun stayed his hand, and showed mercy, for the three were new and innocent to the world, and with the Great Serpent dead at his feet, his vengeance was satiated. As was the custom of his long dead people, Amaun consumed the heart of his Prey, and took its power to augment his own. Ascendant, he brought to the island those he could trust, those who had followed and aided him over the Hunt. He gathered them to him, to that cave, and to those Cursed Springs, and so was born the Ma'at Musk Dynasty.  
  
The island at the Heart of the Sea did flourish, in this, the Golden Age of the Musk, and Sho Amaun Ma'at ruled for thousands of years. His Golden City raised temples to the heavens, moved mountains, and worked great wonders of which mankind would never compare. His followers scoured the world, and brought to their Lord only the best of man, the wisest of man, and the strongest of man. And, in time, did Amaun come unto what was his, and the Three Women birthed him Three Sons. For them did he Rest and Sleep, so that the world would be passed onto his noble progeny, whom he had raised and loved and brought into the light and instilled with honor.  
  
***  
  
China.  
  
The Guide was anxious, and when he got anxious the back of his hands got itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch them, and looked around his home, ensuring that everything was in place and where it was expected to be. In the Kitchen, he heard water running, and Rouge's soft humming. Upstairs, he could just barely hear his adopted daughter Plum running around, making last minute checks of the second floor in preparation for their guest.  
  
Plum was a good girl: smart, vibrant, and curious. She was an explorer, ready and hungry to see the world, much as he had been, so long ago. So long ago, it seemed another, past, life. His blood didn't flow in her veins, but her spirit was Kin. She was so quick to learn, to pick up on things, and most importantly, she knew the difference between learning and knowledge. The village she was from was under Joketsuzoku protection and supervision, and they, like their enemies and neighbors the Musk, stressed knowledge as essential to growth. Hsing Kung, Guide to Jyusenkyou, disagreed. It was learning, not knowledge, that brought growth.   
  
Knowledge implied certainty, and in an uncertain universe, that was impossible to hold to forever. Knowledge clung to proven things, rocks against the raging and ever changing tide. Learning was built on uncertainty, on the mysteries of the universe. It was the question, not so much the answer, that Hsing believed the key to understanding. Plum echoed this, Plum embraced this, and he had taken her under his wing. She would, in the fullness of time, become the next Guide and be privy to its mysteries and secrets. And then he would finally die, content.  
  
The door rang.   
  
Hsing pushed down the need to scratch the back of his hands.   
  
"Father?" Rouge said, cheerful and somewhat excited by the company. "Should I get the door?"  
  
"No," Hsing said, softly. "No, Daughter. I shall get it."  
  
Rouge was normally shy around strangers, but always quick to open up and try and be friends. The Amazon boy that had stayed here for two days, Mu Tzu, had at first subtly avoided her, preferring his presence and listening to the learning that Hsing imparted into the boy. For this, the Guide was both sad and grateful. It wouldn't do for his daughter to get too used to him being around, because he could never stay, and because there was no guarantee he'd survive the week. Mousse had been adamant - he would not bring danger or hardship to their home.  
  
Danger would come anyway.  
  
Danger was already here.  
  
Slowly opening the door, already knowing whom it was, Hsing came face to face with a man and a presence he could never forget. Stepping aside, and inclining his head, the Jyusenkyou Guide welcomed him in.   
  
"You look well, Hsing," the man said with a small smile, stepping inside. He looked different, now. His face had returned to the hard-set lines, the strong jaw... the piercing eyes of his youth. Even his hair had returned with a vengeance, though it was still kept short, in strict military fashion. A single streak of silver, like some hint of his true age, framed the hair just above his ears. A simple set of formal pants, a belt with a cross, a plain white shirt. There was no doubt. He wasn't coming.  
  
He was here.  
  
"You look like a young man, Bishop." Hsing smiled, and noted the two others outside. Two bodyguards, one he recognized as Kiini, the leader of the vicious Muscle Sword Clan. The other was a woman in a black business suit, with long dark hair cut modestly and bundled up in a bun, sunglasses hiding her eyes. She was one of his 'Furies,' he knew immediately. They were part of his personal bodyguard, and frequently used as political infiltrators and assassins when dealing with those outside the Society. They were also all fanatically loyal to their master, and supposedly joined together in some sort of Slavic coven.  
  
"I have been restored, old friend," Bishop smile never really reached his eyes. But it had never reached his eyes, not in all the years Hsing had known him. "Let us sit and talk. I will tell you of it all."  
  
"That would be nice. It has been too long since we talked," Hsing said and called a little louder into the Kitchen. "Rouge, could you bring in the tea?"  
  
"Tea would be lovely." Bishop pivoted a little, his eyes meeting his two bodyguards. "Kiini, Rutha, stand alert out front. No disturbances, understood?"  
  
Kiini nodded. "No disturbances."  
  
The woman made no visible sign of acknowledgement.   
  
***  
  
As Amaun slept, however, the Three Women, Serpents all, schemed and worked away at their sons. The Three of Ma'at gradually fell, subsumed, to corruption and darkness, and the Age of Gold was no more, replaced by Iron and Fire. The Three Sons warred, and debauched, and abused, and went unto mankind and multiplied. The Heart of the Sea had become thoroughly corrupted, when the stench awoke Amaun from his Great Sleep, and as he beheld what had become of all he had wrought, he cried to the heavens.  
  
"Lo, all I loved lies ruined, and all I despised has become legion."  
  
Confronting his three children, and his three chosen wives, he fully realized what had happened. The sirens whispered to their sons of their father's death and fall, of their eternal rule. They whispered of the Legacy of the Serpent, and now will-less, the Three Sons did listen, and all that he had loved attacked Amaun in a fury. His sons were possessed of terrible power, yet they were not his equals, and so finally decided, Ma'at slew them. Turning next to his wives, he heard them say:  
  
"Blame not us alone, but yourself, Lord Husband. For you were desirous of what man must not have, and you had fallen to the Serpent long before we set eyes upon you."  
  
In his rage, Amaun cut them down, and destroyed them.   
  
He turned then to his land, and the island at the Heart of the Sea was destroyed, and the progeny of Ma'at slain, one after another. He spared only the youngest, only the most innocent, of his grandchildren, from his wrath. And as the island was consumed, he bid them flee to the old lands of man, out of paradise. Heart heavy with despair, hands wet with his own blood, Sho Amaun Ma'at disappeared into Sleep, never to awake. His was the last trace of the Serpent, and in retreating forever into death; he would indeed end the Hunt.   
  
***  
  
Shampoo had been tracking her prey for too long. It was bringing back memories of her one great failure that she wasn't prepared to deal with. It was getting late, and her two companions, Cherry and Chain, were eager to find camp for the night. Shampoo, however, would hear none of it. The two girls were herbalists, and backup, though she doubted they'd be necessary. When she found Mousse she would take care of him personally, and with finality.  
  
Clambering up the rocky incline, she took a moment to look around and enjoy the view. Mousse had passed through local places Shampoo herself had never been to. Almost two weeks ago, she'd nearly cornered him in a small village where he was staying. She'd picked up the pace then, but Mousse was always a few steps ahead, and for a few days, it was like he had completely disappeared in an isolated highland area.  
  
Soon after, however, he'd cropped up again, and headed down into the lowland valley, probably to get supplies. He had a good lead on her, but seemed to linger for a day and a half, questioning the locals, before heading back to the mountains. The town itself was a Joketsuzoku protectorate, providing them with food and clothing, mostly, as well as the normal tribute of their best and brightest girl children, and occasionally males. When she arrived, the Village Speaker, a woman appointed by the Council of Elders who Shampoo didn't know, treated her cadre to a small feast. They were on the outskirts of Amazon territory, and concerned about the Musk attacks filtering to them by word of mouth in the west.   
  
Apparently, two villages there had been overrun, and surrendered to the Musk, while a third had been burnt to the ground when the Amazon garrison there made a stand. They spoke of that with particular fear, for one of the Musk armies had acquired a reputation for ruthlessness. Supposedly, the Dragon Prince himself rode with one of the armies, at its head. However, this tiny hamlet was far from that conflagration, and Shampoo assured the woman that the Amazons would not be caught unprepared for them again, and would give no more ground to the foul Musk.   
  
The same Musk Mousse was guilty of aiding.  
  
She had wanted to doubt it at first, to believe that there was a mistake or misunderstanding. But after this, after these reports of Musk atrocities and advances into Amazon land, Shampoo realized that he truly must have turned against them and provided the enemy with information on garrison numbers and supplies in town stores. She was eager to get the unpleasantness of her task here done with, eager to destroy the traitor, so that she could return to fight with her sisters against the man-beasts that threatened them. She would fight alongside them, and together, they would beat back the Musk to their mountain hiding places, just like every Amazon warrior dreamed of doing, from youth to deathbed.   
  
They would win.  
  
Prove themselves through conflict.  
  
Show themselves superior through victory.  
  
Leaving the village with a local guide, Shampoo and her two companions followed Mousse, deeper into the mountain range. Where he was going, she had no idea. Perhaps the traitor was looking for his Musk allies, or for a place to hide out the coming storm. It didn't matter. Mousse made no effort to conceal his tracks or presence anymore, probably thinking that he'd lost anyone who had been sent after him. Shampoo was not deterred. She had tracked Ranma and his father for months, across China and Japan, when she couldn't even speak basic Japanese, and still she had hunted them down to their lair. It was, no doubt, that reason why Shampoo had been ordered by the Elders to find Mousse and bring him to justice. Only she could know him well enough, overpower him alone, and track him quickly enough, to make the journey worthwhile.  
  
Now, as she looked around, Shampoo let out a deep sigh, faint wisps of condensation in the air from her breath. It was getting cold, and while the air wasn't so thin yet as to make breathing laborious, there was a strong biting wind blowing in from the north. Her vest tight around her, Shampoo checked her weapons as an afterthought, and kept forward. There was a sense of something approaching, something powerful at the extreme edge of her senses that couldn't be classified or quantified.  
  
"When are we going to stop, over?"   
  
That was Cheery, Shampoo thought, and looked over her shoulder. Cheery and Chain were identical twins, from some village called Yaoshin, if she remembered the name of the place correctly. The two girls were nearly impossible to tell apart, and had an odd manner of speech that reminded Shampoo of something from a long time ago. Still, Cherry, Shampoo had learned, tended to walk to Shampoo's left side, while Chain usually stuck to the right, and slightly behind. It was Cherry (the more talkative of the twin sisters) that spoke up.  
  
"We'll stop when I say we'll stop," Shampoo snapped, annoyed. The two girls had no stamina, and tended to slow her down and sleep too long. They weren't warriors. They weren't fighters. They were weak. After this, she would say as much to her elder sister of one year, Tso Pu, who had recommended them for this job. Shampoo would be sure to see that Cherry and Chain never became adopted into the Tribe as Full Amazons, with all the rights and power that came with that station. They weren't worthy of the honor and the title, and their weakness would enfeeble the entire Amazon Tribe.   
  
"But it's late," Chain complained, loudly, obviously not caring that she might alert Mousse to their presence. "My feet hurt from all this climbing and walking and..."  
  
"We will stop..." Shampoo turned slowly, interrupting the other girl and pointing at her sharply. "When I stop. Understood, Initiate? LinLin and RanRan are little children, and they would not be complaining as much as you two do. Because they, unlike you, are Amazon warriors."  
  
Chain looked down, unwilling to meet Shampoo's gaze. Snorting, Shampoo kept walking, and her two companions kept following. The ground was a coarse mix of broken stone and sharp unfriendly weeds, and still at the extreme of Shampoos' senses, something was tingling. Warning her. Preparing her. Rounding a corner, she noticed something about the rock outcropping next to her.  
  
"Hold on." She signaled for Cherry and Chain to stop, and looked more closely at the outcropping. It seemed to be a large single boulder, but it looked cut - hewn, into an almost rectangular shape. Tracing her hand down its surface, to the base, she felt a seam where it fit perfectly into another hewn rock. And another, mostly buried. A building had been here once. This was the work of man, not a natural occurrence.  
  
"Look!" Cheery yelled, and pointed to something around the corner of the broken face of the rock wall. Shampoo quickly jumped over, and gasped at what she saw.  
  
It was huge.   
  
It was unbelievable.   
  
A ship, beached high on this mountain, lying slightly on its side. Perhaps three hundred feet long, and over sixty feet wide, it defied imagining. Dark spires of broken wood bloomed from the corpse, high into the air. Everywhere, bits and pieces of it, parts of the hull, parts of the compartments inside, where strewn around. The place was like a graveyard, and the smashed ruins of this ship made seem like some Kind of ghostly cathedral. It creaked and groaned as the wind blew through it, and Shampoo felt a chill fall over her.  
  
"Finally made it, did you?" The voice came from the ruins. It was Mousse.  
  
"Mu Tzu!" Shampoo focused on her mission, found some small perverse comfort in it. "Show yourself, you coward! You will run and hide from me no longer!"  
  
"Who's running?" his echoing voice asked, mirthful. "Who's hiding?"  
  
"You are!" Shampoo walked forward, towards the wreck. She noticed the occasional assorted weapon lying around, rusted and useless, mixed amid the broken wood and stone. A blast of cold wind came in from a nearby gorge, raw and angry.  
  
"I let you follow me. I knew your sister would send you to get me."   
  
"If you let me find you, why are you hiding? Face me and die well!"  
  
Mousse laughed. He jumped from out of sight onto a rock, and then onto one of the broken, but still tall, ribs of the destroyed ship.  
  
"I'd rather not die, Shan Pu. Not before, and not now. I brought you here to talk - to reason with you. I knew you would be sent to get me, for what I did, and what I did not do. I knew this, and I hoped it a mistake on their part."  
  
"Why? Because you think me too weak to finish you?" Shampoo stared up at him.  
  
"Because I think you smart enough to know when not to fight, and when to listen to reason. That time is now. I know things..."  
  
"You know only what you stole from us! Stole and sold to the Musk! Even now, they attack us, and they do so with your aid!" Shampoo shook her head. "I will not listen to you. I will not listen to the words of one without honor!"  
  
Behind Shampoo, Cherry and Chain took a few steps back and away.  
  
"Shan Pu..." Mousse tried again.  
  
"You will fight, or you will run," Shampoo said. "Those are your options, Mu Tzu. I will not fail the Elders. I will not be swayed."   
  
"So, that is how it is, is it?" Mousse frowned from his perch, high above them. "You may come to regret your decision, Shan Pu. I bear you no ill will, indeed, a small part of me still yearns for your approval and love... if you leave here, I will not pursue you. Go back to your masters and tell them to make their own peace, first."  
  
The expanse of the fallen Airship howled in the wind, the great arching ribs, like those of some Kind of beached whale, long dead and picked of its skin and flesh, swayed slowly, creaking and adding their tortured sound to the angry snarl of the place. A shiver of dread passed through Shampoo involuntarily, as her hair waved freely behind her. Mousse's eyes were hidden by his glasses - glasses firmly fixed on his face, not put away or drooping down his nose. The Amazon male had his hands in his sleeves, his face bearing a look of cold analysis towards those below.   
  
It was as if this place, this graveyard, had changed him.  
  
Fortified him.  
  
"You are a fool to think I would return again in disgrace!" Shampoo yelled up at him, her pride covering any insecurity and nervousness. "You are a traitor to our people! You betrayed them, and you betrayed me! I have been told to Kill you, so I will Kill you! There is nothing more to it!"  
  
"Really?" Mousse chuckled, his tone firm and unyielding. "I know too much, hold too much in my mind and in my hand, to die just yet. There is more to this world than your pretty pride and need to gain favor with the Council. I had hoped to convince you..."  
  
"Convince me to turn against the Elders?" Shampoo's outrage made her voice barely recognizable as her own. "They made me all I am! They ARE the Amazon Tribe!"  
  
"If you really believe that... If you cling to it with every breath and beat of your heart, as I see you do," Mousse answered slowly, his shoulders widening in preparation. "Then you and I will fight. And I will not hold back any longer."  
  
"So be it, Mu Tzu!" Shampoo reached behind her, bonbori quickly in hand.   
  
Mousse's sleeves seemed to part in slow motion, before becoming a total blur. Shampoo's eyes couldn't even identify the projectiles, but she knew what they were: ropes, chains, weighted yoyos (some bladed), the occasional gauntlet. The world focused, her blood pounded into the base of her head, flooding her body and senses with power. She jumped, instinct and reflexes guiding thought rather than the other way around. Twisting and bending, she avoided the first flurry of his attacks, but had to dip and pull back under his next assault.  
  
The ground became pockmarked by Mousse's weapons, but as every one hit the ground or even neared it, they were pulled back the fifty or sixty feet into Mousse's sleeves. He alternated hands as he jumped to another gaping wooden rib. Shampoo dodged and spun, slapping aside the more dangerous gauntlets while trying to avoid the smaller, sharper, attacks. She didn't even wince as a bladed yoyo cut a line of red across her left bicep.  
  
Her foot touched the ground, her momentum altered, and below her rocks and clumps of dirt took to the air, a testament to her change in inertia, and how much it had been imparted into the rocky and rubble strewn floor that was their battlefield. She dived into and through, head and shoulders low, bonbori held wide and to the side, and passed by the isolated wooden rib Mousse stood on, directing attacks from on high.   
  
It splintered in a cloud of cracked wood.  
  
Mousse jumped again, and Shampoo's eyes narrowed as she followed and mentally calculated his next position. He was aiming for nearby rocky outcropping, a slab of upturned stone that had once been part of Fortress Soryn. Mousse had a great advantage over her at these long ranges, and even as she watched him gracefully move through the air, coils of rope and weapons retracted back to its master. Blinking as the answer came to her, Shampoo lunged into the air, and caught the hilts of two knives connected to different but adjacent ropes, and tugged.  
  
Mousse's trajectory altered a tiny fraction, but the ropes instantly became slack. The Amazon male landed on the rock outcropping, sleeves back together, glasses glinting against the few rays of available sunlight. Shampoo threw the two detached ropes aside, her frustration and anger rising to new levels. Her legs surged with power, and she jumped up to the side and backwards, onto and against another tall rock formation, before rocketing towards him, at top speed, her course unchangeable.  
  
He smiled.  
  
"You don't expect that to work, do you?" He spoke quickly, took a few steps forward, and fell straight down. She passed right over him and overshot her target. Shampoo had expected him to attack, which would allow her to close the distance and draw him in. Silently, she cursed. Mousse pivoted and looked up as she passed by. She was now behind the rock, and he back flipped four times, just as she came down on where he had been, from out of no where, her bonbori smashing the ground into oblivion.  
  
"Damn you Mu Tzu! Stand still!" she screamed and ran forward, blindly. Mousse's sleeves just parted, little more than a crack, and Shampoo realized she'd been drawn into a trap. Crossing her bonbori, she twirled and spun them, forming a de facto shield to block and absorb the wave of weapons the Amazon male threw at her. As she plowed forward, she felt a strong tug, and realized Mousse had been rapidly sidestepping. Her feet dug into the hard broken earth, trying to halt or slow herself, when the sharp pull, coming from her now entwined bonbori, took her off her feet. Desperate, she tried to let go, but found her hands tangled as well.   
  
"Forgive me!" Shampoo thought she heard Mousse yell, and she was thrown into a hard wall of wood that smashed behind her.   
  
"Forgive you?" She snarled, and opened her eyes. She saw Mousse holding the ropes firmly, all of them, a trail leading from his hands to hers. She smirked, and with all her formidable strength, pulled back. "For WHAT?"  
  
"W...wha?" Mousse left the ground, and Shampoo pressed her feet flat against the depression in the wooden wall behind her. Pushing back and out, she sped forward and, like a human air intercept missile, plowed into Mousse. He grunted as the mass of chains and weapons and tangled bonbori bowled into him. As they fell down, hitting the ground on an uncoordinated melee, both fighters' instincts Kicked in: they rolled, and were almost instantly back on their feet. The two Amazons, one male, one female, both the best of their gender, stared at each other over the mess of weapons that held them both hostage.   
  
"Now," Shampoo said, slowly. "Now I have you."  
  
"I could say the same to you." He pursed his lips in a silent Kiss.   
  
"Die, Mu Tzu!" She pulled back, drew him forward, and Kicked up and around the obstruction around them. Mousse smiled as he twisted, ducked under the chains, and tugged. Shampoo left her feet, again, but instead of slamming into the ground, she landed on one knee, cracking the ground. The two twisted and Kicked and grabbled through the ever-tangling medium between them, struggling for control and position, slamming each other into the ground in turn. Finally, at the same time, the overwhelmed and overstressed ropes around their hands and wrists snapped, and they were free.  
  
"Shall we try that dance again, my darling Shampoo?" Mousse's hands blurred, and suddenly he had his Deerhorn Knives in hand. Oddly, Shampoo felt herself smiling back. She reached to her shoulders, and pulled out her Amazon Dao: sabers, one short and one long. They were Sister Blades, left and right respectively. With a clash of metal driven by muscle, they met, and started to dance.  
  
Shampoo braced herself, and kept moving. Mousse had the advantage in reach, especially when it came to Kicks - his preferred method of unarmed close combat damage dealing. His Deerhorn Knives were dangerous weapons, and especially effective defending against swords with their superb hooking and locking techniques. They were capable of breaking and manipulating the energy of her own swords, too, so she mixed up her attacks, and when she committed to a true attack, it was with overwhelming force.   
  
"Come on, Shan Pu! You can do better than this, can't you?" Mousse taunted her. He had never taunted her before; he had never opposed her before. No one ever really had.  
  
"Stupid... Making me angry," she hissed, through clenched teeth. Her swords were pressed together in a quick lock, but she twisted the Little Sister blade, and scissored out of the hold his Deerhorn knives had on them. Stepping back with her left foot, she brought her Big Sister blade around and down in a fluid motion, aiming for the throat but catching only a few strands of black hair. The male Amazon leaned back, locked the sword, and pressed it aside, his other hand striking out, blades glistening, and Shampoo quickly intercepted it and put more strength into the parry to try and throw him off balance.   
  
Mousse went with the movement, rolled forward, and snap Kicked back. It grazed Shampoo's temple, and she swiped at him, high, then low, then twice high, spinning into a cycle as Mousse desperately ducked and dodged and blocked the quick attacks. Suddenly, sensing an opening, he jumped straight up. Shampoo followed without hesitation, and at the apex of their vertical leap, they resumed trading blows. Now in midair, Shampoo took advantage of the situation and crouched, switching into a cross slice combination of attacks Mousse had difficulty fending off.   
  
Then, as they approached the ground, Mousse's wrists flicked, and he moved with deceptive speed. A false lunge lured Shampoo's blades away and to the right, while his left Deerhorn Knife moved in, catching her Little Sister sword at the base. They hit the ground, sending up a cloud of debris, even as their feet adjusted and reset stances, jockeying for position and power. Shampoo kept relatively still, but Mousse was constantly moving as the weapons of their right hands clashed at an ever-increasing speed. Within seconds, the air seemed literally charged with sparks.   
  
"Give it up, Mu Tzu!" Shampoo snarled, pulling back with her left, lunging with her right. "You cannot escape Amazon justice forever!"   
  
"You overestimate yourself, *and* your so called 'Amazon justice!'" Mousse answered. The lock between their left weapons broke, and Mousse spun, seemingly rejuvenated, into a veritable dervish of cross patterns and feints. Shampoo blocked them as they came, as he advanced, and as she slowly fell back. Her mind told her to wait out the storm, wait for him to tire, wait for an opportunity to present itself.   
  
Mousse kept coming.  
  
Impatient, Shampoo made a quick assault, sensing a small window of opportunity in the pattern. Mousse switched seamlessly into a low crouch, spun, blocked, and threw her. It was a harmless throw, really, and she landed on her feet, but it gave Mousse the initiative once more. He kept to her right now, the opposite of before, and she didn't realize she was being herded until the ankle of her left foot hit a bundle of chains and rope, and quickly grew tangled as she fell back.  
  
"No!" She gasped. For the first time, she sensed the cold threat of defeat and humiliation nipping at her heels - creeping up her spine. The prospect of death was secondary. Indeed, it could even be seen as a favor and a release over the shame of failure and defeat. She had tasted that most bitter fruit before, with Ranma... with Mousse, it would be a million times worse.  
  
"Yes!" Mousse was moving to strike, the light off his glasses fading with the setting sun. How long had they been fighting?  
  
Desperate now, more than ever, Shampoo braced her shoulders against the ground, Kicked her legs up, and spun like a top, first centered around the base of her neck, then on the ball of one palm. Around her, the chains and rope tangled at her feet spun and tore into the air like whips, like a hundred pound cat o' nine tails, like a blender... and Mousse was caught in it. The trap had turned against him, and he was hard pressed to back up, fend off the angry chains and coils, and keep track of her next attack.  
  
Sharply and suddenly Kicking out into an upside-down split, the restraints at her feet broke. The pain was terrible, and her ankles were screaming, but as she rolled back and to her feet, Shampoo was given an unexpected surprise. Mousse had lost one of his Deerhorn Knives to the maelstrom she had created. Raising her Sister Blades, she gave him a cruel smile, eyes narrow.  
  
"Feh!" He growled, and threw the yin-yang shaped weapon at her. She leaned back and to the side, effortlessly, and it sailed past her and imbedded itself into the wall-corpse of the nearby floundered Lucky Gods Airship. His sleeves met, for just the blink of an eye, parted, and he was wielding claws, three from each arm. His wrists and palms were sheathed in studded black leather, part of the Claw weapons he now used.  
  
With a feral scream, she charged at him, swords a blur.   
  
A high strike, low, then a swipe coupled with a lunge. She attacked, and attacked, and attacked like a woman possessed. Driven was more accurate. Driven by the need to win. Driven by the need to prove herself through victory. Driven to draw blood for the cause of her leaders. Shampoo's rage was a tempest that couldn't be contained, but for every blow, for every attack, Mousse countered, or dodged.   
  
She attacked high, and his feet came into play. He would dance amid her strikes, and try to sweep her feet out from under her. She attacked low, and his Claws became far more dangerous. He would intercept her blows more often, and use them to initiate counterattacks. Instinct and the power calling from her blood drowned out all thought save the defeat of her foe. Time seemed meaningless, pointless, and insubstantial. Her wounds seemed unimportant, like they were someone else's and that person only told her what it was like. The pain was purely second hand.  
  
She would Kill Mousse.  
  
She would Kill any traitor to the Amazon Nation.  
  
She would Kill any Musk that dared face her.  
  
She would Kill any she was told to.  
  
She was the PRIDE of the Joketsuzoku.  
  
"You're nothing!" She yelled, and they crashed through a wooden wall. "Do you hear me, Mu Tzu? YOU ARE NOTHING!!"  
  
"And yet... I live." He grimaced, taking a bleeding wound to the left shoulder, as he counterattacked. His Claws finally caught both her Sister Blades, and with eerie grace, he Kicked up, hooked his legs, both of them, over her forearms to the elbow, and fell backwards. Shampoo's swords bent and snapped under the pressure, and the two fighters fell into and through the creaking wood beneath them, to another hard layer, Kicking up a billowing cloud of smoke and dust.  
  
"Not for long you won't. Mu Tzu." Shampoo, now weaponless, took up a low Amazon stance. It was her favorite, a combination of power and speed, for all that it lacked in flexibility or evasion.  
  
"Talk, talk, talk. Is that all you women do?" The male Amazon grinned at the rage he'd fanned, tossed aside his ruined and bent Wrist Claws, and took up a modified crane stance. He was fighting unarmed, but as anyone who knew him would testify that he was far from weaponless.  
  
Both warriors took an instant to note their surroundings and their battlefield: flash imprinting it into memory and impulse. They were inside the ancient hulk now, amid its ruined and broken levels. It was a great open maze, dizzying to plot or look on. Great canyons of hull, expanses of blasted, burnt and broken wood that once formed the bowels of the ship. The arching ribs of the place towered like monuments to the sky, casting long shadows. Everything was terraced, one layer on the next, collapsed sections falling into dark rubble. Behind and ahead, the blasted middle merged with the mostly intact aft and fore. Thick spider webs and tattered cloth swayed in the wind.  
  
Mousse advanced, and Shampoo received him; his hands struck out, open palm blows that Shampoo blocked or fielded. She tried to counter with a twin tiger blow to his midsection, but rising his elbow and supporting it with his left arm moved it just aside, and her open hands, fingers curled menacingly, brushed over his robe, tearing it. The sound seemed to bring attention to the fact that it wasn't in particularly good shape anyway.  
  
Mousse jumped, but Shampoo leaned back, a high Kick twisting to capture his foot with her own, at the ankle, and pull him back down. Gritting his teeth, Mousse tapped his next to last toe on each foot, and small blades snapped out of each shoe's base. As their hands struck and countered and warred, their feet made a different dance all their own. Mousse maneuvered to free the room for a good Kick, to take advantage of his superior reach, and bladed shoes. Shampoo made sure to intercept every Kick, every step almost, just as it left the ground.  
  
As they fought on, high above, the clouds obscured the sky.  
  
With every step, every hard movement, the ground beneath them creaked and cracked, threatening to fall apart entirely. Dust rose high from unsettled boards that hadn't been touched, or even seen, in years. Bits of broken wood rained slowly from above, and the two fought on. Then Mousse made a mistake, as Shampoo intercepted yet another attempt at a Kick with her foot. Expertly, she twisted his foot slightly, and he landed wrong - the small blade embedding in the wood floor. With an audible 'snap' it broke off.  
  
Mousse followed with a quick sweep, but the surprised Shampoo still managed to jump. He watched as she seemed to float against the broken twilight sky, landing on a higher platform that shook with her weight. Grimly, he cracked a half smile and broke the silence between them. "Where you running to, Shan Pu? You can leave anytime you want. I haven't changed my mind on that."  
  
"I..." she took a deep breath. They were both breathing heavily now, but she seemed slightly worse off. "I won't run from a male, and certainly not a filthy criminal like you."  
  
"So nice that you still think highly of me," Mousse said, and laughed. With a sharp roundhouse Kick, he snapped one of the nearby wooden supports in half. Shampoo looked down on him, but didn't stumble as the wooden platform she was on cracked and fell. Instead she rode it down to Mousse's level. It landed with a thunderous crash, and for a second it seemed like the structure would hold against the trauma.  
  
For a second.  
  
Then everything seemed to fall apart. The world groaned - pillars shot upwards; boards and planks fell down with a crash. Both martial artists jumped, and landed on the now surviving support columns that ran up from below. Balancing, one foot in each column, they stared at each other, determination in their eyes.  
  
With only a second's delay, they walked across the remaining pillars and supports, each only three inches in diameter, or occasionally rectangular, with even less surface area to it. Mousse was at an advantage, with Shampoo's footwork unable to establish a superior close range for her. He picked away at her defenses with Kicks, hard and fast, as they circled. At their feet, the pillars creaked and threatened to split under the weight.   
  
"So, are we back to not talking?" Mousse asked, punctuating each word with a snap of the knee, before making a small jump into a chicken Kick that Shampoo barely blocked, falling back a foot onto another pillar.  
  
"What could I possibly say to you?" She responded, voice burning with indignation.   
  
"A little love would be nice. But I'd settle for understanding." He Kicked low, at the pole she was standing on, and its top broke off leaving a splintery mess. Shampoo cartwheeled across two more poles, before touching both feet to a safe pillar some distance away.  
  
"Understanding!?" She cried, not sure whether he was joking or not, and surprised that she cared.  
  
"You never understood me, Shan Pu. I devoted myself to you!" He jumped at her, she blocked the Kick, but he recovered and landed perfectly, "But, now, I don't think I ever understood you either."  
  
"I always hated you Mu Tzu!" She high Kicked, strong and wide, but missed. He replied, but she leaned back and it passed over her head. Reaching up, she tore down a long piece of wood, like a makeshift staff to compensate for her reach disadvantage. "I never made a secret of it!"  
  
"And I always glorified you!" He bent his lower body slightly, avoided the lunge. Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the broken wood, found a seam, and tore down a splintered staff of his own. "I don't want to fight you. Shan Pu..."  
  
"No more talking!" She attacked, leaning with her blows, and he met each one. "You always talk too much, Mu Tzu! This situation is simple. The Elders want you dead, and they want it done by my hand. This isn't personal. Not really. It's the law. It what I do."  
  
"Is that all you aspire to?" He practically yelled at her. Their feet moved with a life and balance of their own. Neither Amazon gave it much thought, focusing on the clash of wood on wood between them, and the struggle. It was how things had always been among the Joketsuzoku. Shampoo would Kill him if she could, not just because he was male, not just because she had been ordered to, but because he was the weak, and she the strong. Combat would prove that. Amazons ruled each other by class and fiat. Combat forged the Amazons and kept them strong, but all too soon, combat would decimate the Amazons beyond recovery.   
  
He hated them.  
  
Yet he wanted... needed to save them.   
  
"What are you blabbering on about?" Shampoo spoke on low angry tones.  
  
"You're the finest Amazon warrior of your generation..." Mousse advanced on her, his blows like a hurricane. "You're the descendant of Great Warriors, male and female. Legends in their own right..." His makeshift staff crashed into Shampoo's, the sound reverberating through the world around them. "You're the future of the Amazons..."  
  
"Spoiled!"   
  
Clash.  
  
"Blind!"  
  
Clash.  
  
"Arrogant!"  
  
Clash!  
  
"Doomed!" Mousse roared, and with a spin, he smashed Shampoo's weapon to bits and splinters. "Do you want to see why, Shampoo?" He jumped at her, suddenly, throwing his cracked staff aside and pushing her off her perch, feet failing to find purchase. "I'll show you!"  
  
They landed, and something broke.  
  
The snap of bone.  
  
"Look." Mousse's voice came, echoed. "Look, Shampoo!"  
  
She blinked, rolled over, trying to get to her feet, trying to keep fighting. Something shaded, something distinct, met her eyes. As faint light passed overhead, through rolling clouds, she saw the gaping hollow eyes, the gum less maw. She screamed, jumped up, tried to find footing. Instead, she heard something else break, looked down, and saw bones.  
  
Bones everywhere.  
  
"Now you see the legacy of the Joketsuzoku," Mousse said from behind her.   
  
"What...?" Shampoo gulped air, taking it all in: the tattered clothing, the strewn bodies, some still clutching weapons, and the hollow eyes. They all seemed to be staring at her, refusing to blink, blaming and cursing her in their silence. "What is this?"  
  
"This is Soryn. This was the sacrifice you were never made to know. This is why, within the week, the Amazon Council of Elders will all be dead," Mousse said, slowly steeping around and in front of her. His face was passive, neutral. "This is why your world... your comfortable, secure world, will come crashing down into oblivion."  
  
Shampoo was silent, fighting with herself instead of him.  
  
"I wouldn't lie to you, Shan Pu. I never lied to you," he said, simply. "Listen to me."  
  
"Mu Tzu, I..." Shampoo looked up; saw a descending shadow fall down on Mousse. Then two flowers were in his hair, and something hit her from behind. There was sharp pain - blinding pain, and then the blessed cocoon of darkness enveloped everything. 


	11. Learning Curve part 26

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just Kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXVI (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
The Grandchildren of his lineage, numbering only three, were the First Lords of the Musk. They were Sertu, the eldest, Qauiza, the youngest, and Herubu, the middle child. They and the Musk survivors realized their err - theirs was not to rule mankind, but to never again fall to the Serpent, and to ensure the continuation of their Line, their Arts, and their Traditions. For this, however, they would need the cursed springs, and the places of power, so that they would all not weaken so much over time as to no longer be Musk. They traveled together into the lands of most ancient Egypt, and there split.  
  
The followers of Qauiza headed north, and eventually west, over the great sea.  
  
The followers of Herubu traveled Far East, to the great hidden mountains there.  
  
And the followers of Sertu settled among the sands and rivers of Egypt, and there began to search out places of power, so as to either find, or create, cursed springs for use of the Musk. Many they found were naturally occurring, but always well hidden. The springs would frequently form, dry up, disappear for years at a time, or be replaced entirely. The Sertu pioneered the controlling of the springs, making them more permanent, and more stable, as well as devising ways of finding these hidden places.  
  
Over time, they also became not merely content to watch as man grew. It was in their interests for progress to occur, and fostered the growth and development of cultures and civilizations. The Sertu maintained a steady, but distant, hand, influencing events when necessary, but preferring to keep out of these affairs. Tradition. Arts. Lineage. These were the Ways of the Musk, and Sertu's Court became the oldest and most respected of them all.  
  
***  
  
"As you can see, things are finally falling into place." Bishop sat down on the couch. It, like the house, was a gift from Bishop and the Society, in return for the Guide's friendship, and more importantly, his loyalty and dedication. "The Old Men lie dead, the last wretched ties to a backward organization, severed. And I have become what I always dreamed, and what we needed. Soon, we will have our much earned Greatness, and none shall have the power to take it from us."   
  
"Greatness always seems just a little out of reach with us, doesn't it, Bishop?" Hsing looked to his left, as Rouge walked in, carrying a small tea set. It wasn't Chinese, however, but distinctly Russian. The Head of the Society smiled that empty meaningless false smile of his at the display of attention and tact, and inclined his head a bit as she approached.  
  
"Rouge... you seem quite composed, my dear," Bishop said, his tone hiding something.   
  
"Composed, Uncle?" She asked, curious, as she set the tea set down on the small marble coffee table between the two men.  
  
"How do you feel, Rouge? Any headaches?" He asked, calmly.  
  
"No headaches, sir. The medicine you gave me helps tremendously," she replied, demure and honest. Hsing frowned, just slightly, at the exchange between them.   
  
"Good." Bishop left it at that.  
  
"I'll be upstairs if you need anything, Father, Uncle." She inclined her head, and stood to leave. Before she did, though, she hesitated and turned to face Bishop again. "Excuse me for asking, Uncle, but I noticed how you look much younger."  
  
"Not just my appearance, Rouge. I've been healed." He raised his left hand, and flexed the fingers. The previously crippled and useless hand was functioning effortlessly, perfectly manicured nails and large strong fingers matching those of its other, never injured, counterpart. For the first time Hsing could remember, Bishop's eyes sparkled with something akin to happiness.  
  
For some reason, it frightened him.  
  
Rouge blinked. A few times. She quickly excused herself. "Congratulations, Uncle. You'll have to excuse me... I seem to have taken on a bit of dizziness."  
  
"Of course," Bishop said, voice cold. Rouge left, probably to take more of the Chemical Inhibitors the Society gave her to subdue her 'other' side, in case she transformed. Rouge's Asura form was immensely powerful and aggressive, prone to lashing out at everything around it, friend or foe. It had been determined that this was primarily due to the delay between transformations, when the stronger Asura was subdued under the weaker Rouge. Its anger and impulsiveness built up, like a volcano, or a steadily heated gas, so that when she transformed the Asura was driven to lash out at the world. The pills kept the Asura powers at bay, so that when the young girl transformed, her form could be controlled and reasoned with.  
  
Hsing knew it was only a matter of time before a disaster hit them all.   
  
"It pleases me to see that she remains so calm and collected, Hsing," Bishop said, interrupting the Guide's thoughts.  
  
"I'm glad it pleases you, Bishop." Hsing sighed, hating his lack of voice control.   
  
"Sarcasm, Hsing? How unlike you. The Society will do everything it can for her, my friend. She is your daughter... and I feel for her too. She is like a daughter to me."   
  
Hsing wanted to believe that his old friend's words were sincere, though his voice was emotionless. The Guide berated himself. Bishop had done everything he could for Rouge, though he likely only did it to maintain the loyalty and services of the Jyusenkyou Guide. One thing about Bishop was certain. He did nothing for free, nothing out of the goodness of his heart, nothing that did not suit his plans or purposes in some way.   
  
The Spring of Drowned Girl would not work, though.   
  
This Hsing knew first hand.  
  
It had been tried, and it had failed to overwrite the Asura curse. Why it failed, Hsing wasn't entirely sure, and it remained one of several secrets of Jyusenkyou he explored. It was speculated that the cursed form was defending itself from being destroyed or displaced. It was speculated that the unusual nature of the Asura Spring, which had 'bonded' to an inanimate statue instead of an organic life form, was the problem. It was speculated that the cursed springs had varying degrees of power and intensity to them, and that the Drowned Girl Spring wasn't strong enough to replace the Asura Curse. Hsing had vowed, years ago, that the one thing left to do before he died, besides train a proper future Guide, was to discover the secret that plagued Rouge, and cure his daughter of the terrible fate that had befallen her.  
  
"Like a daughter to you..." Hsing trailed off. "Like that Lychee girl you adopted?"  
  
"Of course I care most deeply for my dear Lychee." Bishop took a sip of the tea. "She serves me well. Better and more loyally than I could hope for, and without even the need of a surikomi egg. All the better, for she is not a mindless sycophant and servant, like so many I command."  
  
The Guide leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.  
  
"Do you think otherwise, my friend?" Bishop asked. "You two have only met... once?"  
  
"Once. She does not like me."  
  
The two men were silent.  
  
"What is it like, Bishop?" The Guide asked, after a time. "What is it like to be Saffron the Terrible, to be the Living Ouroboros?"  
  
Bishop chuckled, softly.  
  
"What is it like, you ask?" Bishop clenched his left hand. "It is perfect. It is perfection. It is the unbroken endless loop. Ouroboros is a more accurate term than we ever imagined. I have access to many of his memories, but his spirit - his soul - has been completely subsumed as we expected it to be, dissolving away bit by bit. I'm slowly gaining perfection over everything this form offers, but as you see, I already know how to change my appearance, burning away what I dislike, and remolding what regenerates. I made myself appear younger to reflect that, though I suppose old age is no longer really a concern. It is simply much easier to command appearing like this. Many will respect an old man, but few would fear him, or follow him to their deaths."  
  
"Every thought," Bishop continued, more quietly this time. His voice carried a compelling resonance. "Every thought is like lightning. A constant rush of energy circulates through me at all times. I no longer hunger, really... I no longer thirst. I eat and I drink, but not because my body craves it, but because I want to. The eyes... the vision was the hardest to get used to. The change, the sensitivity, is incredible, much more so than it is for hearing or taste or feeling or anything else. This is truly the form from which to oversee the masses of mankind! An ageless body, an unstoppable power... and soon, my friend, we will have the boy, Herb, of the Musk... and through him, we will recreate the process used on his grandfather's twin. Through him, you too shall join me as immortal, invincible, tireless... a being of light and fire! We will rule together, Hsing, old friend."  
  
"If things go according to plan," the Guide said back. "Your plan."  
  
"You aren't getting any younger, I realize this, but we..."  
  
"Let me age for now, Bishop. Do not rush forward our schedule for my account."  
  
"I move forward with such speed, such vigor, because it is justified." Bishop relaxed slightly, resting back in the couch. He bit out a sharp humorless laugh. "Listen to us, sipping tea, speaking of the history we will forge. Who could have imagined this, when we were but children, three quarters of a century ago? Is this not a most brilliant moment? Incandescent? Already the Society, my Society, has worked its way into influencing world leaders, bending them to out purposes and designs. When the Phoenix People are crushed, totally, we will have Saffron's Secret, and all the surikomi eggs we need to become true masters of the world. Nothing can stop us. Nothing can impede us. I'm surprised you do not revel in these moments, Hsing."  
  
"I have more immediate concerns at the moment, of which I am reminded daily."  
  
"Ah. Rouge. And that little girl you picked up... Plum, is it?" Bishop's heavy eyebrows lifted slightly, as they did when he was interested in something new. Plans were in motion in his mind.  
  
"Plum. Yes."  
  
"Your successor. Of course... there will be little need for you to pose as the Guide anymore after a year or so. How are her lessons coming?"  
  
"Very well," Hsing said, silently glad he had told Plum to stay upstairs. "She is a smart girl, quick to learn. Quick to question."  
  
"Hmm," Bishop's smile faded a fraction. "How much does she know, Hsing?"  
  
"Not much. She knows the many springs, their locations, some of their histories. I have begun her education in the many artifacts and local histories of the people here, and the world at large. She knows no Society secrets of any importance."  
  
"Good. Good, Hsing. Perhaps, in time, she will become part of the family that is Our Society."   
  
"In time, perhaps." The Guide closed his eyes, and poured out a new cup of tea.   
  
Bishop gave a single nod. "You know so much, old friend. I can't imagine imparting even a fraction of it to one so young, over so little time."  
  
"She has much to learn, still. What of our ...interests among the Amazons?"  
  
"The Amazons?" Bishop looked down at his hands, placed them palm down on his stomach, before locking them together comfortably. "Soap has delivered to us what we asked of her. Her influence among the Amazons, especially the moderates and the younger generation, has been steadily growing. With the cooperation of our Musk interests, her raids and daring skirmishes have all been great successes, providing the only Amazon victories so far in the little brushfire we've started. When the Amazon's bitch Elders have been drawn out and Killed by the Musk Prince, with our intervention if need be, the Council will dissolve. Soap will rise to take the mantle of Queen in lieu of a lack of ruling Elders. We will support her so long as she remains loyal and ultimately subservient to the cause and will of the Society. Things are following roughly as we predicted them to. You worry too much, Hsing. ...It's not healthy."  
  
The Jyusenkyou Guide seemed to rouse himself.   
  
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose I do worry too much. ...It can't be helped."  
  
***  
  
Things continued as they had for many centuries. Great leaders of the world came and went, and the Musk, especially the Sertu Musk Dynasty, recorded and paid them homage and heed. Alexander the Great, for example, was influenced and encouraged both by subtle means, and by his acceptance into divinity at a legendary temple - a temple run by the Sertu Musk, for the Lord at that time saw great promise in the Greeks, and in Greek Ways. However, things began to unravel with the rise of monotheism, and the loss of Sertu influence in the Middle East and Europe. Just seven hundred years after the death of Christ, the Sertu (by that time the Setu) Dynasty had been annihilated by the influx of Islam into Egypt. Small in number, they were unable to fight back against the conquerors without violating Tradition, and becoming themselves great Conquerors and Masters. Both to the sword, and to gradual decay and dissolution, did the ancient and esteemed Sertu Line fall, and its few scattered survivors fled to both Herubu, in the east, and Qauiza, far across the sea.  
  
A little less than a thousand years after the Fall of the Sertu Line, the Musk of Qauiza joined them in oblivion. The Qauiza Musk were a varied and partly decentralized group, and their members were free to roam the great expanse of the land. In the extreme north and south, especially, the Musk came and went as they pleased, often living many decades without seeing their Lord Qauiza or paying visit to his Court. They were unprepared for the invasion of these lands, and those that did not fall to disease, fell into despair. The Dynasty of Qauiza fell not with a roar, but with a whimper. Those who survived the fall either retreated deep into the jungles, to await the end, or fell back once more to the last bastion of the Musk -The large and stable bulwark that was the Herubu Dynasty.  
  
A crisis atmosphere seemed to grip these last remnants of the once all-powerful Musk, the descendants of Ma'at. The Noble Dragon Lords, the rulers of the Musk, had been weakening for thousands of years, their strong blood gradually giving way to millennia of breeding with powerful, but ultimately only human, women. Each generation was slightly less than the one that came before. Records recount that the First Lord Sertu had lived for two thousand years before he went to his great hidden tomb, and that Ma'at had lived for at least three thousand, and his direct children two thousand before they were slain. By 1500 CE, a Musk Lord lived to see only two hundred or one hundred and fifty healthy years.  
  
So began an effort to revitalize the Bloodline.  
  
***  
  
Ryouga had discovered, over the years, that one comes to develop certain peculiar habits, especially when alone. For example: Rabbit. Over the last decade or so, he'd gradually developed a taste and appreciation for it, and other wild meats. Oddly, he found himself unable to stomach eating even normal amounts of soft chicken or pork. A little was fine, now and then, but he always found himself yearning for wild boar to mix with a little instant ramen. When out and walking, he tended to avoid the clusters of cities and civilization that ran his way, unless he was low on supplies. And he was rarely low on supplies.  
  
Washing his hands at the sink, Hibiki Ryouga looked in the mirror. What he saw was a strange man, nearly an adult at eighteen, with soft green hued brown eyes, and hard frowning features. With his right hand, he reached up and felt just below his right ear. An intermittent coat of short black hair was an irritant against his finger, reminding him of how foreign his body felt sometimes. When he was little, he'd never really thought that the power he'd devoted his life toward cultivating would be so ...overreaching. Every task, no matter how minute, had changed over the years, and most dramatically over the last ten or so months. Sleeping, walking, chewing, innumerable others - they had all been altered in a way he couldn't really describe. He was fit, of that there was no doubt. He had reached a new peak of power and ability, but he didn't feel in control. The restless burning power in him seemed to have more influence over him than he had over it.  
  
Drying off his hands, he wiped the last bit of moisture off on his pants and left the bathroom. At the other side of the store, he saw Ranma moving around, looking for things to buy. He almost frowned seeing him, and the fact that he didn't both troubled and gave heart to the lost boy. Ranma still confused him. Hell, people still confused him, but Ranma had never really confused him until recently - until he actually tried to understand and befriend the pigtailed martial artist. Ranma had to be feeling like he did. Ranma had to know of the restless undercurrent of energy, bubbling under their skin, begging to be released. He had to; they were too close in power for Ranma not to feel it, and yet Ranma gave no indication of trouble over it.   
  
Did Ranma simply have more control?  
  
Or was it his attitude? His thoughts? Or maybe, just maybe, Ranma didn't have the capacity for malice in his heart that Ryouga did. Ranma was self centered and rude - he cared, really, for himself above all others. But he wasn't malevolent, and it was that fact that had finally moved Ryouga to put their feud away. Ranma had done things to him, indeed, but not out of spite, but out of ignorance.  
  
Ranma wasn't a murderer.  
  
Picking up a small metal razor, Ryouga looked down the aisle, and found about a dozen types of shaving cream. He could get lost easily in the store, he knew, given his genetically horrible sense of direction. He couldn't let that happen, so he stayed in just that aisle, looking through the different brands, and slowly reading the lists of ingredients on each one. It helped focus his mind, and kept it from straying. It kept the restlessness at bay.   
  
"Man, I'm starving!" Ranma came up from behind, and patted Ryouga on the back. "Hey, you didn't get lost! Great job, buddy!"  
  
"Yeah, thanks." Ryouga rolled his eyes. Ranma didn't need to put so much sarcasm behind that last sentence.   
  
"How are we paying for this, anyway? I didn't bring much with me," Ranma said, unashamedly. Ryouga looked down at the plastic bag thing Ranma had put his stuff in. There were a few bags of chips (Zesty, Ruffled and Original, whatever that meant), some commercial trail-mix, some sort of beef jerky with a Native American on it giving a thumbs up, a couple bottles of pure spring water... other bits of food, nothing really important except the water. And the 'Bug Off' spray.   
  
"What's this?" Ryouga reached down at the bottom of the pile and picked out a magazine. "Pacific Martial Artist? You read this rag?"  
  
"Rag?" Ranma's tone carried a hint of challenge. "That's the swimsuit edition!"  
  
"Swim...suit?" Ryouga blushed a bit, and looked at the seemingly harmless magazine, still in its plastic wrapper. "Really?"  
  
"Summer's comin' up," Ranma said and elbowed his traveling companion in the ribs. He winked. "You ever seen Nabiki in her two piece?"  
  
"I... er... heheh..."  
  
"I'm Kidding, stupid." Ranma snatched the magazine from Ryouga's shaking hands. The lost boy slowly recovered and started to fume.  
  
"Saotome...!"  
  
"Look more closely." Ranma pointed to the bottom of the cover. "Special 'Enduring Mysteries of Forbidden China' edition."  
  
"Jyusenkyou!" They both said at the same time. Slowly they walked (or to be exact: Ranma led Ryouga) to the counter. Quickly the conversation turned back to the matter of paying for their stuff.  
  
Ryouga had more money than Ranma, mostly because he took on odd jobs when he was abroad. Often, he'd do some heavy lifting or working. Painting a house usually only took him a day, and was good work when short on money. Stopping rampaging animals would usually earn him a favor or two from locals, too, and it seemed to happen surprisingly often. Already it had happened twice over the last week. The first time, he'd taken care of the giant boar himself. The second instance, a rampaging bull, he had left to Ranma.  
  
Because of it, despite leaving the Tendo's with very little money, and eating in towns every so often, they weren't anywhere near broke. Unfortunately, Ranma, when he had money, spent it recklessly. It was no wonder Nabiki could always count on him borrowing money from her. Unlike his rival, Ryouga was fairly cheap when it came to spending. He was soft on hard cases, sharing food or lodging when need be, but he kept what cash he carried well guarded. Ranma and his father had often relied on mooching and running without paying in the past - this was an option Ryouga had never considered, both because it was stealing and dishonorable, and because he tended to wander into and through the same towns four or more times. Due to this, it was only natural that he became more careful how he spent what little he had on him lest he develop a bad reputation.  
  
Unless, of course, it was for a letter to Nabiki, flowers for Nabiki, chocolates for Nabiki, or any number of things for her, Ryouga steadfastly refused to part with his cash. Ranma had also pointed out that he also tended to haggle, an annoying habit he'd probably picked up in China. That he was annoying people, Ryouga hadn't noticed.  
  
"How much is this all going to cost?" Ryouga grumbled.  
  
"Who knows?" Ranma dismissed it with a shrug. "Can't be that much, P-chan."  
  
"Whatever, Ran-KO."  
  
"I tell ya what," Ranma said as he fished around through his pockets. "We'll split it fifty-fifty. Right down the middle. I should have enough for that."  
  
"Fine, fine." Ryouga took the bag from Ranma, to free up another hand, and the old man at the counter started to scan in each item. Never quite content so simply stand and think, and wanting to take advantage of the moment, the lost boy grabbed a local paper, and started skimming through it.   
  
"Hey, Ranma, listen to this," Ryouga said, giving his still occupied companion a quick glance before turning back to the small article. "This is so stupid. It says here, that some girl on vacation in Cambodia flirted with this Cambodian guy, and almost ended up getting assaulted, because the guy thought she was serious. The guy realized he'd gone too far, so he shaved his head, begged for penance, and now they're getting married! Maybe the next time Akane-san..."  
  
Ryouga's voice trailed off, as his eye caught something to his left, from two men who had just entered the store. His martial artist's sixth sense, a sort of danger precognition flashed in his mind's eye. He saw a knife, gleaming steel: maybe a bowie knife, too large and heavy to just be some knife from home or the aisle with Kitchen utensils. Time seemed sluggish, distorted... perspective was skewed. The action was smooth, instant, instinctive - unstoppable.  
  
"Hand over...!" The man, a dirty, unkempt looking fellow, grimaced before his back twisted, and a scream tore from his lips. There was a sharp crack, and a shallow grating sound, before his knees hit the ground. Ryouga barely heard his howl of pain, barely registered that he was behind the man, one hand holding the hand with the knife in it, the other braced at the other man's elbow. His right foot connected with something hard, but not nearly hard enough, and heard a 'popping' sound.   
  
"Ryouga! Ryouga, man! Snap out of it!" He heard Ranma's voice, numbly, distantly.  
  
The situation resolved itself, and he fell back to earth, his high disappearing. He was no longer flying, no longer an endless, unstoppable, energetic force of nature - he was just a man, pretending to be something that he wasn't. With a clinical mind, he noted that his left hand had ground the other man's elbow into a pulp, and that he'd bent the forearm so that it broke in two places in a compound fracture. Behind, he saw the other man, a knife held in limp fingers, all the way at the other end of the store, where the Kick to the jaw had thrown him. Said jaw was obviously broken, the man's lips and mouth bleeding liberally into a pool on his shirt. These men, these unlucky bastards, who had the bad luck of robbing a store with not just one, but two, martial artists in it... one would never use this arm again. The other would need extensive constructive surgery before he could even hope to eat solid food again. If they had waited... if they had come in, just a few minutes later, the two idiots would have gotten away with it.   
  
At that thought, Ryouga felt oddly compelled to go further.  
  
"Break the other arm," Something dark and seductive whispered. It was the power. It wanted to be released. It wanted to be used... USED, not wasted. It was not given to him to be spent, pointlessly, on tricks to amuse people - to impress people. Why did an animal have any weapon, if not to make FULL use of it? Did a wolf deny itself use of its fangs? Did a tiger forgo use of its claws? "Break the other arm." It repeated, forcefully. "Snap his neck." Don't hold back! Use what you are given! Become what you know you want to be!  
  
Tireless.  
  
Invulnerable.  
  
Invincible!  
  
"What did I..." Ryouga let go of the robber; looked down at his hands.   
  
"Come on, man! Let's get out of here!" Ranma grabbed him by the wrist, the other hand still holding onto a plastic bag full of stuff. Distantly, Ryouga wondered something.  
  
"Wait... Have to pay for..." Reaching into his pack, he took out a couple bills and put them on the counter. Ranma hastily threw down what he had counted out before, coins scattering and rolling off the edge and onto the floor.  
  
"Good! Done!" Ranma said, pulled his arm, and they were outside in the bright beautiful sun. Its cleansing warmth permeated the lost boy, brought him back to the present. Without another word, without even thinking about which way they were headed, he and Ranma ran.   
  
***  
  
With knowledge gleaned from the unique occurrence that was the Spring of Drowned Asura, as well as learning from the Sertu and Qauiza into the problem, a dedicated effort was began and given the blessing of The Fourteenth, Lord Herb the Second, Sixteen Generations removed from The Grandfather. Into the effort, Lord Herb was blessed with a rare occurrence: twins. It was seen as a good omen from the gods to continue forward, and one of the children was to become their hope for the future: an immortal Lord of Noble Blood. To that effort, the Musk dedicated the full use of the Jusendo Observatory, an extensive temple complex built from the floodwaters of Jyusenkyou up to the peak of Mount Phoenix.   
  
Experiments on the local non-Musk had already yielded positive results, and reinforced what many Musk Scribes believed to be the greatest hope for success. Select treatments of Asura Water, and other alchemical and arcane manipulations, over years, began to have the desired effects on the young Musk Prince. At the same time, it began to make him unstable and uncontrollable. The situation came to tragedy as the child responded ill to his latest transformations, and driven wholly insane, rampaged through Jusendo, threatening the Tradition preserving Cursed Springs. Finally, in the end, the grief-stricken King was forced to destroy his child, and the experiment was ended in failure.  
  
Indeed it had failed: to produce a Musk Lord.  
  
***  
  
China.  
  
The Musk war camp was a strange study in contrasts. It, like the hierarchal Musk culture, was built around order and discipline. Yet, it also reflected and catered to the Musk impulse for violence and savagery. It was this combination of impulse, not defeated by discipline, but directed by it, that was the essence of their existence. Walking past the orderly sets of tents, each a single solid color; Pantyhose Taro whistled to himself and pondered the immediate world around him.  
  
He was not pure Musk, but he understood them better than any outsider. In his heart, every Musk, be he Scribe, Warrior, or Advocate - be he a thinker, fighter, or a spiritualist - was an animal. At their core, they were all vicious, merciless Killing machines. They had powers gifted through ancient bloodlines, and mystic manipulations of their bodies. It was unsurprising then that they all had their demons deep within them. Pantyhose certainly had his. In a way, he enjoyed his personal demons, and their comforting malice.   
  
He, like all Musk, was a living weapon.   
  
Musk were not unnaturally smart. Musk were not unnaturally canny or affable. Indeed, they were quite difficult to like, both between Musk and outsiders, and between Musk themselves. Musk warriors fought each other more often then they fought the enemy. Short tempered, proud, prone to acting on impulse... they were like a pack of wolves: fighting and jockeying for dominance at every turn, respecting only strength, breeding only more viciousness.   
  
An endless cycle.  
  
Looking over to his left, Taro saw an open area. Loud rallying cries, boastful cheers, and howls of approval resounded from where, on a dusty circle surrounded by their fellows, two Musk warriors were locked, hand in hand. Finally, after a few tense seconds, the slightly shorter of the two got in and under, his superior position allowing him to flip his opponent onto the ground with a hard thud. The crowd of Musk roared like an angry sea, and the one on the ground scrambled back to his feet, slammed his palms together with a loud thunderclap, and jumped back into the fight. Behind the assembly, a formation of Musk Assault Troops, decked in their heavy lead plate and chain armor, armed with massive lead mauls and shields, marched in perfect synchrony, shaking the earth at their feet.   
  
Order.  
  
Discipline.  
  
Enforced through total superiority and adherence to the hierarchy. That was the other side of the Musk. At the head, unquestioned and sovereign, was the Dynasty of the Dragon. It was, by far, the most powerful of all Musk bloodlines, and the only thing keeping them from falling apart and into anarchy. Without the foundation, without the absolute and unchallengeable authority of the Dragon, there would be chaos. All Order, all Discipline, radiated from the Dragon. His Ministers and Advocates spread his word, his Scribes recorded his history, and his Warriors enforced his will.   
  
Taro still found it odd, however, that Herb would place himself at the head of an army, as a formal Warmaster. Normally, Warmasters were chosen so that there was one from each caste. The Dragon Liege himself stayed away from battle, and temptation, unless necessary - he would operate as a separate unit. This was how it had been for centuries upon centuries. Few exceptions existed. The Sertu Dynasty had adhered to this their entire history. The Haabu had occasionally deviated, operating over a larger area, and generally favoring more numerous small field armies that could support and supply themselves. The Qauiza were the most mysterious, as most of their old records were lost, but Taro supposed they likely followed the traditional divisions.   
  
Prince Herb had broken that Tradition.  
  
He had appointed Sumac from amid the Warriors, and Clove from the Scribes. Perhaps Herb knew there were no competent leaders that could be drawn from the Advocate Class, which had diminished dramatically from losses in the last war with Saffron. Perhaps Taro's half brother had a desire for glory, and to forge some sort of legacy of his own. Perhaps he wanted to impress his toy female, that Japanese woman: Kounji Ukyou.   
  
Regardless, Herb had still broken Tradition, and Musk clung to Tradition like drowning men. It was always something Taro had disliked about 'his people,' and it was the reason he couldn't just have his stupid name changed. At the thought, Taro felt a surge of anger, and without thinking, reached up and felt the long scar that ran down the side of his face. Growling, he realized he'd stopped walking, and kept going on his way.   
  
No one had protested Herb's two appointments.  
  
Sumac was well liked and respected by most Warriors. He was an excellent fighter himself, despite being born to the generation right after the last Phoenix War, and while a little more sarcastic and quick to criticize than most Musk, Taro found those traits were what made them good acquaintances. Sumac wasn't very big on Tradition, preferring to let things like strength and competence speak for themselves. Many of the older Musk were cold to him, because of his attitude... cold to both of them because of their attitude, but Herb's decision to give Sumac an Army was well received.   
  
Clove was the more conservative appointment. He was a middle aged Musk descended from the Viper Bloodline (One of several Bloodlines that came over from Egypt when the Sertu Dynasty fell) and he served in a support role during the Phoenix War. Clove had seen some combat, and given a good accounting of himself. He was also a Scribe and a self-styled 'learned Musk,' well versed in their history and ancient lore. Well grounded in old school Musk tactics, gleaned from a history of conflicts going back over ten thousand years, Clove had a fondness for privately lecturing others on his decisions. Where Sumac would issue his orders to a subordinate, Clove would explain his. The latter also traveled with the Lucky Gods and Toma, in a more strategic role.  
  
Beneath the Warmasters lay the Commanders of Regiments and the Captains of Formations. Their positions were more tenuous. Commanders were appointed through a combination of combat prowess and favoritism on the part of the reigning Warmaster. With no direct tie to the Dragon, they would rise or fall depending on performance and preference. In keeping with Tradition, Captains were decided purely through combat within a Formation. The reason for this was obvious. A Musk warrior would only follow the dictates of either a more powerful Musk, or a Musk directly endorsed by the most powerful Musk, the Dragon Lord. Through this Tradition, Formations were ruled differently, but almost always harshly, as the most ruthless and vicious fighter would rise above his comrades, bending them through force and intimidation. It was also a role many Musk were all too comfortable in - many Captains never wanted to rise further in the hierarchy, because it would require dampening their bloodthirsty natures.   
  
Such was the nature of the Musk.  
  
Taro passed by the Camp Armory. There, sets of heavy armor were hung in the breeze. Like the Musk, they were regimented and divided up into a proper order. The Heavy Armor and Heavy Weapons were proudly displayed in the first row. Behind it, were several rows supporting of medium and light armor, half the slots of which were empty.   
  
Walking still down the dusty makeshift path, Taro saw the preferred weapons of the Musk. The Assault troops used massive Lead Mauls, that when taken, would vary in weight between several hundred pounds and over two tons, depending on the Ki enhanced strength of the warrior wielding it. Behind those titanic weapons were an assortment of maces, polearms and swords. Behind that, were the light weapons used by the segregated Togenkyou auxiliaries and their much less numerous Musk peers. Bows, javelins, short swords. The Musk traditionally had no cavalry - even heavily armored Musk Warriors ran as fast as a horse, anyway, and had similar endurance.  
  
Taro felt pinpricks on his skin.  
  
His senses were warning him of what he was approaching. Ignoring the instinctive warnings, he pressed on to a large longhouse type tent, the highest and most expansive of them all. Taro entered, gently pushing aside the thrice man-sized tent flap. There, in the center, sat Prince Herb, legs crossed, hands cupped in his lap. He was several inches off the pillows below him. The inside of the tent was nice, but far from bring something special - it had three long rugs that contrasted sharply with the lush grass on the lowland plain where the army had made camp.  
  
Fluorescent lights from two metal stands provided illumination, but weren't on at the moment. The sun was high, and it cast the inside of the tent in a dull light. To the side there were some stacks of boxes, and some sort of metal contraption, folded up and on its side. Next to it stood Sumac's brother, the boy: Mint. His sword was sheathed, and he seemed at rest against one of the light stands, but he was watching all affairs within the tent intensely. There was a bamboo and silk mattress, the same as that given to all ranking officers in the Musk army, the same that Taro slept on, and then there was a futon, like he had seen in Japan. It looked comfortable and inviting.   
  
It looked even more inviting with Kuonji Ukyou sitting on it.   
  
Taro licked his lips, and coughed to get their attention.  
  
"Lord Herb?" Taro asked, eyes half lidded.  
  
Herb's eyes, a vivid unbroken green, slowly opened and cut into Taro with unusual intensity. There was no great secret of the distaste Herb had for his 'Half-Musk' bastard half brother, and just the sight of Taro tended to make Herb either sadistically eager to attack his name and station, or just angry at his presence. Superficially, Taro made it unofficially known that he reveled in the sole ability to piss off the Lord of the Musk, but deep down, he worried that someday the Musk Prince would make good on his hatred, and slay his half brother. And as powerful as Taro knew he was, he was no fool. Herb could smite him like an insect, if he chose to.  
  
"You interrupt us, Pantyhose," Herb said Taro's name slowly, with satisfaction.  
  
"Yes. I apologize for any break in the excitement, my Lord." Taro looked to Ukyou. She was also cross-legged, her hands resting on the stupidly large spatula in her lap. Taro had seen her use the thing as a sort of weapon. He didn't imagine it was very effective.  
  
"Feel free to speak in her presence, Pantyhose. In fact, say what you will in Japanese, so that she will hear it," Herb said in that language, encouraging him. The Prince seemed to see Taro's hesitation as concern over Ukyou as a security risk. Taro had never considered that. Did the Society have Ukyou in their pocket? He certainly hadn't been told, if that were true. Bishop wouldn't keep him out of the loop - Taro was too essential to their plans, or at least he liked to think he was.   
  
"The Scouts have brought news from Xaodin," Taro said, and cleared his throat. His Japanese was excellent, or so he'd been told. "It seems that there is an Amazon Elder overseeing the organization of a town militia to support the Amazon garrison. From their description, and from my knowledge of Amazon movements, I am quite certain that the Elder is none other than Lai Zhol, one of their more infamous matriarchs."  
  
Herb's brow furrowed, but he did not frown. "One of the Three?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord. One of the Three," Taro answered smoothly. As if the line was practiced.  
  
"What does that mean?" Ukyou asked, her tone wary, uncertain. "What do you mean, 'One of the Three'?"  
  
Taro waited only a second. He expected Herb to explain it, and true enough, the Prince spoke up, and answered her.  
  
"'One of the Three' refers to the Joketsuzoku Elders who were on the seven person Council when it decided to abandon its alliance with the Musk in the last War. That was roughly thirty years ago. Lai Zhol is one of the three on that Council who are still around today. Oui Ru and Khu Lon are the others. They are directly responsible for the betrayal of their people, for the extension of the war..." Herb snarled, his anger rising, though his body maintained its position, floating perfectly still. "I have vowed to Kill them personally. I will Kill them, starting with this one. You are absolutely sure of this, Taro?"  
  
Taro was caught unprepared. Herb hadn't called him 'Pantyhose'?  
  
"Yes. I am absolutely sure that Lai Zhol is in the town of Xaodin," Taro replied, firmly, with confidence. "How long she will be there, however, is a mystery."  
  
"Then we shall move out with the utmost haste," Herb's voice calmed as he spoke, returning to its normal detached chill. He rose slightly as his legs uncrossed, and in a second he was on his feet in front of Taro. "Go. Alert the Commanders that we are to move out in two hours. I shall follow shortly and address them in fifteen minutes at the command tent."   
  
"Yes, my Lord." Taro inclined his head at him, then at Ukyou. "M'lady."  
  
Herb frowned, finally.  
  
Taro quickly made himself scarce and left.  
  
"Herb?" Ukyou asked, standing up. "I realize..."  
  
"I made a vow, on my father's grave, to Kill them," Herb cut her off, but his face softened slightly. He took a few steps towards her. "Don't worry about it. How were your exercises progressing?"  
  
She looked away, as if considering whether or not to allow the subject to be changed. Herb was a proud man, she knew, and when he was set on something, he was adamant. She finally decided to relent.   
  
"They're going more smoothly than before," she explained. "But it doesn't feel... natural. It doesn't feel comfortable."  
  
Herb let out a deep breath. "The exercises are just to get you accustomed to developing perfect control. An ordered set of thoughts. In time, you'll adapt a method all your own, and when you do, and when the order is unbreakable and inviolable, you'll be able to wield your Ki with far greater skill and power."  
  
"The number scheme can't be the only way, though." She brushed aside a strand of hair from in front of her face. She hadn't bothered with the bow, or anything like it, today, and her hair was flowing freely. Wildly, even. 'Untamed' Herb had called it.   
  
"The Number sets are difficult, yes," Herb said, crossing his arms. "I tend to operate in a more ...linear fashion, so it suits me perfectly. Perhaps a letter or script type scheme would work better for you."  
  
"Maybe." Ukyou shrugged. Herb had started teaching her almost two weeks ago, before the Assault on Phoenix Mountain. He had shown her a world of Ki mastery that she hadn't imagined ever existed, and told her that some of it was within her reach. He had told her things, explained things, she had long wondered about. In her youth, when she began to become ...unnaturally powerful as a result of her training, she had long wondered what was happening to her, what the feelings and fire that coursed through her meant.   
  
Ki was a fundamental an element of reality - by nature; it existed in all matter and energy. All creatures used it, without knowing that they used it. It was simply there, sandwiched with the universe, for lack of a better term, between space and time. It could defy conventional physics, because it was a means of either maintaining or distorting reality itself. Ki literally allowed the impossible to occur, under select and unique circumstances.  
  
In a scant few individuals, there developed a way of manipulating Ki, either consciously or unconsciously. It was a combination of factors. Bloodlines were important, because, as the Musk believed, they influenced both the cultivation of an individual's body and soul, the latter of which was the conduit through which manipulation of Ki occurred. Focus was also essential, and the means through which so many martial artists came to wield their Ki. Another person could still find their Focus in business or politics, and would be using and manipulating Ki without realizing it.   
  
Back in Japan, Ukyou had noticed that there was a constant conscious drive to become more powerful. Every time she tapped into her Ki, into the well of power she could feel within her, it came at the head of a rush of energy. It was very much like a drug, like a high, and every time it took a little more energy, a little more Ki, to match the high from before. She now knew for certain that the body, and even the soul, got accustomed to Ki, and power, the more it was drawn.   
  
Used internally, Ki seeped into the bones and made them stronger, it diffused into muscle and tissue, enhancing speed, strength, nerve conduction speed, and other factors. It made its way into the brain, supercharging the senses. Ukyou had never noticed it before, but it also made her nails and hair grow faster. It sped up the metabolism, and increased heart rate. It did all these things, with no physical drawbacks, save that the body became addicted to the power.  
  
When she had her suspicions confirmed on this, Ukyou grew worried. Worried that she was steadily becoming an addict. Worried that she couldn't stop, couldn't turn back, not after all she'd done and been. Herb had consoled her, told her that it was not the power, not even the addiction to the power, that she needed to worry about - that it was a natural thing, and that it was not a certain path for her to go down. He explained to her that it was the corruption of the power, the 'Serpent,' that needed to be quenched through discipline... that by imposing order on her mind that she would be the power, rather than just using it. Become the power, control the power, and control what you become, he had told her.   
  
And she had tried.  
  
Ukyou assumed that it was a concept and ability that simply came easier to Musk, who were born with substantial power, and driven and guided by the Art almost since birth. Musk totally internalized their Ki, driving their supernatural bodies to an extreme. Only the Dragon Blood and a select few others had enough discipline to externalize their Ki, and still maintain perfect control. Ukyou had made the connection to the 'Dark Side of the Force.' Herb had been confused, and then insulted, when she'd explained the reference. He maintained that there was no 'dark side' of Ki - that it was simply a process, guided by control. The Dragon practiced Ki Control; the Serpent practiced Ki Chaos: power through total anarchy.  
  
She hadn't really understood, until he explained who he was.  
  
What he was.  
  
The most ancient History of the Musk.  
  
Given that knowledge, she had moved forward, confidant that she could gain total control, and through it, an understanding and peace with her Ki. She still wanted a Ki attack, she still wanted, deep down, to show up Ranma... to impress Ryouga. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be independent. Herb had taken her under his wing, tutored her as he said he had been tutored. He had given her his favorite 'exercises' through which he maintained constant control.  
  
They were math games.  
  
Usually, he would start at two extremes: at zero and a thousand. He would multiply the numbers by two, and visualize them. Then he would move to two and nine hundred and ninety nine, divide them by two, and visualize them. He would work the number sets towards their ultimate fruition, until they passed and reversed. Herb had told her that he maintained exercises of that nature at all times, (except when he slept she supposed) but that it wouldn't be necessary for her - he did what he did, because his power was so great, and his responsibility to defeat the Serpent within him all the greater.   
  
After hearing of his heritage, she understood this all the more.  
  
"How about ... an okonomiaki recipe?" Herb suggested, interrupting her thoughts. "It doesn't have to be complex, just strong. Just something strong enough to hold back the Ki, like a dam, to control and direct its flow."  
  
"A recipe?" She pursed her lips. "I don't know... it's not... difficult. It's like second nature to me, now."  
  
"It will come to you. Remember, it was years before I was ready to have any level of mastery over externalized Ki." Herb held out his palm. Black electricity danced between his fingers, and from the palm, like a second skin, raised a bright blue sphere, illuminating the large tent with bright light. Ukyou had to squint her eyes at its brilliance.  
  
"What about...the shortcuts you mentioned?" She asked, and Herb's Ki sphere dissolved into the air with a tiny rush of displaced air.  
  
"Shortcuts?" He asked, and then remembered. "Ah yes. You mean emotive Ki."  
  
"I think that was it. What about that?"  
  
"Emotive Ki is simple, but ultimately unstable. You cannot properly vary or control the properties of externalized Ki based on strong emotions," Herb explained. He was quiet for a moment, before he took a step forward, reached out, and took her hand. His thumb ran small circles in her palm. "Strong emotions are too powerful to be perfectly controlled."  
  
"Even for the mighty Prince Herb?" Ukyou's voice was unsure, but her strong slender hands curled, just slightly, over his thumb.   
  
"Ukyou," Herb said, caught himself, and slowly lowered his hand, suddenly shy. "I'll... go send someone to help carry your grill. Everything must be packaged and ready to move before we march on Xaodin."  
  
"Yeah." Ukyou nodded, agreed. A blush was on her cheeks, but she saw a hint of one on Herb's face, too. He gave her a small, warm smile, turned with a flourish, and left. Watching, alone, from the far side of the tent, Mint's face betrayed no emotion. 


	12. Learning Curve part 27

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just Kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXVII (v1.3)  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
Far below the battlefield between Musk father and son, the now transformed people beneath Phoenix Mountain found a babe among their fields. Cold, alone, abandoned, he seemed to scream defiance to a world, to a nature, that would Kill him. He would not die. They adopted him, and he lived among them, as one of them, even as his power grew. While his brother took the Musk Throne, he dominated his peers, rose above them, and became their Lord, memories of his past life like a fleeting dream: vague, hazy.   
  
In time, the actions of this Phoenix King became not just noticed, but of interest to his brother, the Lord of the Musk. It took little beyond the obvious to see what had occurred, and the two monarchs met. Things, however, did not go smoothly between the brothers, and indeed, soon enough a fight broke out between them, neither willing to submit to the other, both leaders and heirs to the throne in their own right. Lord Herb, older due to his brother's 'death' and far more experienced and trained, threw down his upstart twin brother and defeated him. The Phoenix King withdrew, still unwilling to submit, and now bitterly aware of his past. With the Phoenix people behind him, he attacked Jusendo in a bid to divide the Musk. After ravaging the Observatory, however, he was again defeated, and finally 'Killed' by his brother.   
  
"Search the ruins! Upend every stone and brick! Find him, bring him; he will not be again as he has become!"  
  
The Musk Lord had the battlefield searched for his brother, but to no avail. He had already been secreted away by his followers among the Phoenix, by those with no knowledge of his true origins. To them, he was a savior and a liberator. And so, for over two hundred years, the Phoenix Exiles cared for their King, and as his brother grew weak with old age, and passed on to his ancestors, Saffron returned to the Phoenix, and led them anew to Jusendo and finally to Phoenix Mountain. His nephew, now Lord of the Musk Dynasty, investigated this, and faced the returned Saffron. To the horror of the young Lord, his erstwhile uncle had become wholly Phoenix, sporting great wings of feather and flame - he was no longer Musk, and he would not join them. Nor would the young Dragon Lord submit to the Phoenix. Thus, without delay, he attacked with the full fury of the Musk, drew Saffron out, and after great effort, and a heavy heart, destroyed him once more.  
  
But the Phoenix would not die.  
  
And soon he rose again... more powerful and terrible than ever before.  
  
***  
  
Japan. Tokyo, to be exact.  
  
Two men were walking down the street, minding their own business. One was dressed in bright red clothes, embroidered with a green and gold dragon. Beneath the Mao cap keeping the midday sun out of his eyes, he had a pigtail that curled slightly, bouncing against his left shoulder blade. He looked around, keeping an eye on his surroundings, leading his companion. The other man's only really distinctive feature was a large backpack, larger than his associate's, and a tendency to look down while he walked. He had a plain mustard colored crew shirt, cut roughly at the shoulders, and green pants with black lacings around the lower legs.   
  
They weren't in Nerima yet, and no one really paid them much attention.   
  
"Are you sure you don't want to just take the roofs?" Ranma sighed, his shoulders slumping.  
  
"Nah. That'd just draw attention." The other traveler held tightly to the straps of his backpack. "I just want to blend in... look normal for a while."  
  
"Whatever. You've been acting weird ever since... you know," Ranma said, eyes passing over some nearby shops, looking for something. "You've been mopin' and grumblin' and being depressin' even more than usual."  
  
"I guess I'm just eager to get home." The lost boy didn't smile. "Before the stuff I got for Nabiki spoils."  
  
"Which reminds me... I'm no good at this Kind of thing..."  
  
"You mean finding something for Akane?"  
  
"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "What do you get a violent tomboy like her, anyway? She wouldn't go for any of the stuff you get Nabiki. And I'm not gonna do any mushy romantic stuff, like writing a letter or nothin.'"  
  
"You're on your own, Saotome," Ryouga said, walked a little faster, until he was almost side-to-side with Ranma. "You've got to find something from you, not me."  
  
"What about some concrete blocks? She must go through those like water!"  
  
"I... don't think that's wise." There was only a hint of anger.  
  
Ranma frowned. Ryouga had been worse than brooding ever since the incident they'd had at the corner store they'd visited, days ago, he'd been apathetic. Hibiki Ryouga was *never* apathetic. He'd started holding back in their sparring more than usual - granted, they both held back when they sparred, but Ryouga wasn't just holding back, it was as if he was afraid to fight. He had acted somewhat extreme with the two scumbags that had tried to rob the store, but everything had happened so fast, Ryouga had struck without really thinking. Ranma did the same sometimes, when he was caught by surprise by someone, reacting with a typical foot to the face or something similar.   
  
Ryouga, however, didn't even want to talk about it. He didn't seem anywhere near as enthusiastic as he had been about sparring and testing their techniques as he had been. He didn't even want to race against cars, or jump on the rooftops, or do any number of things they both used to revel in. Maybe was simply just anxious to get back home to Nabiki. Ranma knew Ryouga must have missed her, because he sent her a letter every few days, and sometimes gifts and other things - but at the same time, he had never really been in a huge hurry to get back to her and the Tendo home, either. Ranma shook his head, confused. Ryouga was still a mystery in his thoughts.   
  
He was just... weird, sometimes.  
  
"What about getting her a... uh... baseball bat?" Ranma asked. "Something to go with her mallet?"  
  
Ryouga was silent.  
  
"I dunno..." Ranma groaned. His eyes rested on something, and he got an idea. "Hey, what about a cookbook? 'Cooking for Dummies?'"  
  
Ryouga's left eyebrow raised.  
  
"Good," Ranma thought, "A reaction."  
  
"Cooking for Dummies, Saotome?" Ryouga asked. He still didn't sound angry, just a little annoyed.  
  
"Just look." Ranma pointed at the shelf, in a nearby bookstore, behind glass. "'CooKing for Dummies.'"  
  
"Dare I say it Saotome?" Ryouga slowly shook his head, a very small smile creeping up. "That's a recipe for disaster, giving that to Akane."  
  
Ranma grinned. "Yeah. Maybe. But it'll be amusing. I think I will get her that!"  
  
Ryouga's smile disappeared, and he leaned back against the wall, next to the door. "Go ahead," he said, tone neutral. "I'll just wait out here."  
  
"If you want to. Don't go wandering around now, lost boy." Ranma gave him a quick smirk, and walked in to buy the book.  
  
Ryouga 'hmfed' and crossed his arms, waiting. Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out the world around him. Every moment, every impulse, tore at his mind. He ground his teeth together, built up the walls within him, and retreated to their high crenellations. They he would be safe, secure, his own master, and there, more importantly, the world would be safe from him. He needed a prison as much as a castle.  
  
In the distance, he heard something crash.  
  
"No! Everyone run!" someone yelled.  
  
"A bear!" a man yelled, fear cracking his voice. "How did a bear get loose?!"  
  
"Everyone, stay calm! Get into a building!" That was a woman. Ryouga looked to the side, not moving from where he stood. Apparently a brown bear, a large one, too, had escaped, from where, he had no idea. Where these giant rampaging animals came from was just one of life's eternal mysteries. Most people were running around like headless chicken - panicked, as people tend to panic. Frowning, he saw that one woman, in a Kimono and holding a katana in an improper stance, had decided to confront the animal and try and scare it off by waving the sword around with all the grace and finesse of a baseball bat.  
  
It only took a millisecond for him to decide to act.  
  
Powerful legs, enhanced and bolstered by his Ki, took him to the air. The wind blew past his face, blowing through his hair, which had grown longer than he normally let it. His body sang with the power, and he landed next to the woman, his feet cracking the asphalt.   
  
"Don't move," Ryouga said, facing the bear, but talking to the woman. "If you run, he'll chase you."   
  
"Who...?" She started.   
  
Ryouga ignored her and took a step towards the bear. His hands were at his sides, and the bear shuffled back a few feet, growling. It only took a few seconds, before the big bruin tired of the game and pulled the lost boy's bluff. The bear rose up to its full height and roared a challenge, a sound that make a lion's roar seem like one of Neko-Shampoo's pathetic meows. Ryouga smiled.   
  
The lost boy looked into the animal's eyes and felt a Kindred spirit. The bear was big and mean... a rogue in the making, perhaps, over five times Ryouga's weight, and most of that muscle. The creature was obviously in its prime, which was a damn shame. In other circumstances, the lost boy would have considered it a beautiful animal. But now, here, it was just about anyone's worst nightmare. A rogue brown bear was about as bad as they came. No more fearsome, or deadly, an animal walked the land.  
  
A low growl left Ryouga's throat.   
  
His body itched, ever nerve and muscle wanting to strike out. Wanting to break and tear and smash and destroy. Their eyes locked, the bear dropped back onto all fours and backed up, snarling, even as Ryouga slowly walked towards it. The animal's claws, long and strong enough to smash through the door of a log cabin, promised death. Ryouga's hands clenched, swearing the same.   
  
The bear snorted, and looked away. It was about to walk away, when two darts landed on its flank. It growled, annoyed at the pinpricks, and started to escape. It slowed after only a few strides, before slumping against a wall and onto its side. Four men poured out of a truck, and headed towards the fallen animal. One paused when he passed by Ryouga.  
  
"Hey, Hey you!" the man said, voice untrained and unsteady. His heart was pounding, excitement more than obvious to Ryouga's hypersensitive senses. Even as the man spoke, however, Ryouga was falling back to earth; his body felt like it was withering away, like he was aging centuries in seconds. "What were you thinking? You could have been Killed!"  
  
Ryouga turned his back on the man. "Do your job," he said, venom in his voice. "A lot of people could have been Killed."  
  
The man scowled, and ran off to help his buddies take away the unconscious bear.  
  
Ryouga was tempted to try and find the store. He looked around for Ranma, but didn't see him standing outside any of the nearly buildings. Not for the hundredth time, Ryouga cursed his terrible sense of direction. Passing by the woman with the katana, he paused. She looked a bit stunned.  
  
"Are you all right?" Ryouga asked, some worry in his voice. Had his moment's hesitation and inaction led to more pain, more misery?   
  
"Yes. Thank you." She looked down sheathed the katana and stated to bundle it in cloth. "What... what is your name?"  
  
"My name?" Ryouga asked, unsure. "Hibiki Ryouga."  
  
"Oh." There was a definite hint of disappointment in her tone. "You must be a powerful martial artist... to stare down that bear."  
  
"I suppose." Ryouga replied quickly. He didn't want to risk getting even more lost. He needed to find Ranma, or it could be weeks before he got back to the Tendo Dojo.  
  
"I was wondering if... you were from Nerima?"  
  
"I'm not from Nerima, really. I spend a lot of time there, though. Why?"  
  
"Some time ago, I heard about a very large fight on the news that involved two young martial artists in Nerima," the woman said, and paused. "Did you see it?"  
  
Ryouga smiled, one fang peeking out over his lower lip.  
  
"Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, you could say I saw it up close and personal."  
  
"Was my son there? ...Saotome Ranma?"  
  
Ryouga's mouth straightened out. Her son? Ranma? Ranma had never mentioned a mother before. Come to think of it, Ryouga had never really equated Ranma with someone who needed or had a mother. He weighed the options. One thought bugged him above the others. This woman and Genma?!?  
  
Ewww.  
  
He looked at her again.  
  
*Genma* married this woman?!  
  
"Yeah. Ranma was there," he said, after a few seconds delay. "You're Ranma's mother? That's... that's... well. No offense, ma'am, but he never mentioned you. Genma never said anything either."  
  
The woman looked a strange mixture of excited and saddened.   
  
"I'm... I'm sorry if I offended you," Ryouga quickly said, "I didn't mean..."  
  
"No." Nodoka looked up, and smiled. "You didn't offend me. The last time Ranma saw me, he was a very little boy. It's just... I didn't quite expect to be told that he'd forgotten..."  
  
"Well. He and I were traveling together..."  
  
"Traveling together?" Nodoka looked at him sharply.  
  
"Yeah. We're Kind of rivals. He's the only one my age I can fight with."  
  
"Oh. A training trip?"  
  
"Exactly." Ryouga didn't add that he took a lot of 'training trips' without even wanting to. "We were on our way back to the Tendo Dojo, in Nerima. Unfortunately it looks like I Kind of lost him... last I saw him, he was going in a store to get a book for Akane."  
  
"Akane?"  
  
"She's Ranma's fiancée," Ryouga explained, not adding that he had a couple others here and there.  
  
Nodoka raised a dainty hand to her face. "Would she be Tendo Akane? Soun's daughter?"  
  
"You know Tendo-san?"  
  
"He was best man at our wedding!" Nodoka bowed her head. "Excuse my manners... I haven't even introduced myself. I am Saotome Nodoka. Could you please take me to my son? Can you tell me about him?"  
  
Ryouga grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck.   
  
"Um, Mrs Saotome..." He chuckled foolishly. "I, er, may not be the best choice for that first part..."  
  
***  
  
Saffron came to age under the harsh guidance of a different, desperate Phoenix leadership. They were grooming him into a weapon as much as a leader, but they got something else entirely. Saffron became convinced of his divinity. Biding his time and solidifying his rule through fear, under his guidance the Phoenix came to prefect the mass production of surikomi eggs, and had his most loyal agents gather artifacts of power to him. Saffron then turned against his people, and with the surikomi eggs, he secured his total, unquestioned rule over the Phoenix Tribe, and proclaimed him their God King.   
  
Hesitant to again attack the insular Phoenix, and focusing on grooming his heir, the reigning Lord Herb either did not recognize the growing danger of Saffron, or ignored it. Around this time, he took an Amazon mistress, hoping to diminish the perpetual feuding between the Joketsuzoku and the Musk - two groups that had been diametrically opposed to each other for millennia. However, as time passed, Saffron grew more powerful and increasingly bold. Inspired by events earlier in the century, he launched quick, bloodless, probing attacks at border villages, and neutral towns. His forces would descend, and in less than an hour, the entire population would be subverted to Saffron's will, and dedicated to his worship. As his forces swelled with these common peasants, he made preparations to strike out against the Musk.  
  
Saffron's fanatical warriors attacked early in the spring, and cut into early Musk attempts to put down the insurrection into their territory. Every village that fell only fueled Saffron's war machine and bolstered the numbers in his army. Now vastly outnumbered, and largely unprepared, the Musk turned to their neighbors - the Seven Lucky Gods Clan, the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society, and the Joketsuzoku - to form an alliance to push back the Phoenix. As they did, and began to meet Saffron's forces on more equal terms, things ground down to a stalemate over the winter. Cannily shifting his forces, and the focus of his assault, Saffron planned for one last fall offensive through a mountain pass, and into the more vulnerable Bainkara Lowlands.   
  
The issue came to a head at Soryn Pass.  
  
***  
  
"Spare the meats and woven wools!" Herb watched, as his men advanced. "But brook no man, woman or child who takes up arms against us!"  
  
At his command, they broke into a run.  
  
Xaodin was an important trading post, as well as farming center. Its fields would well support Herb's forces, and when it fell, they would feast amid what remained of the place. The support trains were behind, waiting for the order to move in and clean up - Ukyou was with them, protected by the ever-present Mint. She would not see the battle, or the carnage. She had not asked for this, but Herb had ordered it. His eyes narrowed from where he floated, as the battle began.  
  
The village had walls around it, from which Amazon archers and their assembled local militia loosed arrows on the advancing Musk. Herb uncrossed his arms, and silently signaled for their own bombardment to begin. A horn sounded, and the Togenkyou archers moved forward, into position, and fired their own volleys of flaming arrows, lit by portable braziers. They landed in the open areas approaching the village, first, and several sections of land lit up instantly in flame. As expected, they had prepared tracks of oil and tar as a trap.   
  
The advancing Musk easily avoided the flames.  
  
Another horn sounded, and the Togenkyou Archers turned their attention to the walls and palisade around Xaodin. The fires would keep the villagers and militia occupied stamping them out, which was more important than doing any actual damage. Herb watched, detached, as the light troops moved around to encircle the opposite side of the town, ready to run down any who tried to escape or flee. One quarter of the town, the far side from where Herb stood, bordered rocky hills, and it was unlikely that anyone would flee across it.  
  
Herb signaled, and another horn trumpeted. This was no louder than the ones previous, but it echoed down into the battlefield. The assembled lines of Musk divided, as the Assault troops formed into spearheads, and lead the advance. The others fell back and slowed, falling in behind their more heavily armed and armored brothers. Then came the streaks of light and fire - Ki attacks. They were weak blasts, to be true, drawn from emotions and weapons, but they were more dangerous than un-enhanced arrow or bolt to a Musk warrior wearing armor. Fortunately, Musk armor was not normal armor. It was primarily built of lead, and thus quite heavy, but its construction was specifically made to absorb and disrupt offensive externalized Ki.   
  
It was the only thing that could offer any sort of protection from a Ki enhanced weapon. Through the power of Ki, a dull blade could cut through a tree, or a sharp sword, wielded by a master, through solid steel. The crafting of this armor was a well-kept secret of the Musk. The only thing similar that Herb had heard of was an inferior Amazon contraption, designed to discourage the release of 'hot Ki' and used in teaching their Heavenly Blast of the Ascending Dragon.   
  
The palisade defending the down was smashed aside like cardboard as the Assault Musk simply plowed through to the mortar walls. The attacking forces were divided into three prongs, and Herb frowned as one of them bogged down. Another form of trap, he realized, and his vision narrowed on the moment. It was difficult to see from so far out, even with his superb senses.  
  
"Binoculars." He held out his left hand, and one of his many attendants handed the Prince what he desired. Looking through them, he saw what had gone wrong with the left prong of the attack. Roots and weeds had sprung up at the approach of the Assault Group, and bogged them down. They were currently engaged and busy trying to tear themselves free of the rapidly growing jungle, while other troops tried to cut them free, and ended up getting entangled.   
  
Herb's frown deepened. There was something afoot there. The plant growth would halt the forces there, but it would not keep them at bay indefinitely. At two other points, the walls had already been beaten and battered down, Assault troops taking the middle of the town, and the granary, to ensure that it would not be tainted or destroyed by any potential Amazon 'scorched earth' tactics. Medium troops, Musk regulars, would be right behind, engaging any defenders and taking to the walls. Herb realized that the entangled Musk forces were adjacent to where the rocky hills began to become distinct. He blinked in realization.  
  
"I'm moving to aid the left flank personally," Herb said, plainly, and his attendants stepped back and away. His Ki flared, and the Prince took off, heading towards where he knew the Amazons were about to break out. Rolling in midair, rising slightly, and building speed, he saw explosions from underground, and felt the subtle ripples in Ki.   
  
Blasting Point Explosions.  
  
The air around him erupted, his speed incredible. It would take only seconds to get there, but in those seconds, Herb saw the hidden Amazon Warriors stream out from their underground lairs. The ensnared and surprised Musk Warriors immediately moved to defend themselves, and their honor. But their lines had been broken, their martial discipline thrown to the wind. The entire situation had degenerated into a free for all, and amid the growing carnage, Herb saw a small fast shape, darting between his Warriors, and aiding the Amazons.  
  
"Lai Zhol!!" Herb appeared above the melee, his battle aura a twisting helix of tightly controlled power. As his voice cut into the pitched battle below, the Musk rallied a warcry to their Lord, and fought with an even greater intensity and furor. Herb's eyes searched through the chaos, and found their target near the broken and blasted earth from which the Amazons had emerged.  
  
"You cannot run from me, old woman!" He roared, and raced towards her. "Stand and fight, or die as you lived! A COWARD!"  
  
She ducked down, and Herb followed. He landed next to two angry Amazons, each brandishing a spear. They lunged as one, with what would have been frightening speed to a normal man. To Prince Herb, however, they were like flies moving through molasses. With both palms raised, he calmly swatted them away, sending both flying up and out of the deep depression in the earth. There was a tunnel leading down, and Herb made ready to continue the chase to its much-desired conclusion. He spared the corpse at his feet - a fallen Musk, caught right under the explosion, and stabbed while prone - a silent prayer.  
  
"Grandfather preserve you, warrior," Herb nodded, and headed down the tunnel. "Grandfather preserve us all."  
  
The burrow was rough and hastily prepared. No doubt the Amazons had only very recently dug out the tunnels, hid their finest down below, and waited for the attack. These must have been the preparations Pantyhose Taro had mentioned Lai Zhol was overseeing. It was a cunning trap, and it would wound his Musk forces more than Herb had expected in this attack, but it was a futile endeavor. The Amazons did not have any substantial numerical advantage over their surprised foes aboveground, and one on one, an Amazon was no match for a Musk.  
  
They never had been.  
  
It was why the Musk had always been the predator, and the Amazon always nuisance at most, prey at least. The halls grew darker and danker as Herb ran down, descending the twisting tunnel. His internal sense of direction told him that he had swung around, and was heading for an area just beneath the foothills outside Xaodin. The walls became rockier and sturdier as he continued. This would not have hindered the burrowing Amazons' efforts, however, due to their use of the infernal Bakusai Tenketsu.   
  
At last, he came to a great open area.   
  
It was pitch black, save for a single lit torch in the middle of the room, held by his prey. Even so, Herb saw everything perfectly, his vision beyond compare. He stepped forward, slowly, and noted that he was in an almost perfect dome, solid curved walls arching up to an apex thirteen feet above the flat ground. There was a faint... feeling to the walls, which made Herb hesitant to dismiss them outright.  
  
"Greetings, stripling," Lai Zhol said from where she stood. The old woman held to an ornate cane, intricately carved with a jewel at the face that caught and reflected the light of the torch she carried in her other hand. Lai Zhol was the youngest of the Three, and while she betrayed her age through her shriveled appearance, she was not as shrunken as her compatriots, and still walked, using her cane sparingly.   
  
"Finally decided to give up running, old bat?" Herb took a wary step forward. He was walking into a trap, and knew it. "You know why I have come for you, do you not? ...You must."  
  
"I know you believe us responsible for your father's failures, Musk Prince." Lai Zhol eye's followed him, and him alone. "I did not lure you here to talk, however."  
  
"The rabbit would fight the fox?" Herb felt the song suffuse his body. Power threatened to ripple out of him in great waves, but he kept it contained. The mental exercise he began when he decided to enter the fray brought his focus and control into perfection.  
  
62 1938.  
  
16 484.  
  
"In her own warren, the rabbit faces the fox."  
  
66 1934.  
  
Herb almost smiled at the audacity of it.  
  
"Then..." Herb's power began to flare. 17 483. "In her warren, the rabbit shall be buried!"  
  
Lai Zhol threw up the torch, and moved like lightning. As it twisted, head over tail, in the air, the light of the flame barely illuminated the speeding fighters within the confines of the hollowed out dome. Herb and Lai Zhol passed, just as both unleashed a Ki sphere at point blank range. Herb twisted, and it flew over his shoulder. Incredibly enough, Lai Zhol was able to avoid his Ki blast as well. Herb had known that she was fast, faster even than Khu Lon, but it still surprised him to actually see it. The two touched the ground, more than landed, before exploding into action.  
  
70 1930.  
  
Lai Zhol, sheathed in her own battle aura, moved with practiced ease. She could not fly, as he did, but she had an incredible energy and speed. The place was confined enough that she could move, and dodge, and attack, without ever touching the ground. As they passed again, and again, Herb suddenly realized that there were more Ki spheres bouncing around than there should have been. Additionally, he noted, he'd not heard an explosion or impact from the two that had missed in their first pass.  
  
18 482.  
  
Spinning as he moved, Herb had to totally reverse his momentum as a Ki blast; his own as he recognized it, shot off the wall behind him. Not being able to spare the instant to look over his shoulder, the midair spin served its purpose, and it caught the hint of light from an inscription on the wall. This was the trap he had known they would spring. The walls were Ki infused, and warded, and would reflect any Ki attack that hit it. A very powerful attack, of course, would overwhelm the warding and destroy the wall, but anything of that power would also backlash, destroying and collapsing the cavern, burying them both.  
  
It was a beautiful trap.  
  
74 1926.  
  
Herb closed to range, energy crackling down his arms and into his wrists, forming Ki blades. It was, in the Japanese, his 'Hitou Ryu Zan Ha' or Flying Blade Dragon Beheading technique, and one of his personal favorites. At his beckon, Ki surged down his arm, coalescing just above the knuckles. It then formed into a Ki blade between one and three feet long, as well as producing a solid Ki shield that extended down the arm to his elbow.   
  
The Ki blade excited the localized air at its edge, heating it, and giving it a bluish glow as a result of ionization. It was this layer of superheated air, one molecule thick at the edge, which did the actual cutting. Behind that, the Ki blade functioned identically to that of a solid shield, allowing the Ki blade to block or parry attacks. If he wished it, the blade could also be detached and thrown as a projectile. Severing the Ki connection with his body, however, caused the Ki to eventually discorporate, and the Ki blade typically disintegrated five seconds after it was 'thrown.' At the speed her and Lai Zhol were moving and fighting, however, five seconds was a substantial amount of time.  
  
"Let's up the ante!" Herb hit the ground, rolled, and threw his arms out and wide, the Ki blades shooting out. In a heartbeat, they hit the walls, which flared with brilliant blue runic inscriptions, and bounced back. Herb heard Lai Zhol curse softly as she dodged and moved, before letting loose another Ki blast in his direction.  
  
19 481.  
  
The air was thick with Ki blasts rebounding off the walls. Herb knew he was fast, but he was having a damn tough time avoiding the projectiles. He was caught in a game of chicken with the Amazon Elder, the two Ki masters letting off blast after blast, hoping that the other would slip up first, and get hit. Or sliced in half.  
  
78 1922.  
  
Lai Zhol was barely visible, not just through the hazy of bouncing Ki blasts, not just through the dim light of the flickering torch still in midair, but because of pure speed. Herb felt the sting of a stray blast brush past his right arm, even as he twisted to the point of pain avoiding it. As it flared past him, an electrical blue hue danced over his arm - it was his always-present Ki shield, the layer he kept over his body whenever in battle. It would protect him from the heat and vibration of a Ki blast, but not the Kinetic energy impact of it. In a situation like he was now in, an impact throwing him off balance could prove deadly.  
  
20 480.  
  
He knew a new approach was in order. Lai Zhol was at least as fast as he was, despite dumping vast amounts of his energy into increasing his speed. Additionally, she was shorter than he was, and had a smaller target profile. He had walked right into the Amazon's trap, without realizing just how well they had drawn him in unaware. His mind raced as his body blurred.  
  
82 1918.  
  
Herb winced as he dove into two of Lai Zhol's rebounding Ki blasts, the Ki shields on his arms absorbing the blast, and his momentum negating the impact. He tumbled, for just the blink of an eye, before going airborne. He tried to track Lai Zhol's movements, tried to find an opportunity to weave through the thick mass of erratic Ki blasts and strike her directly.  
  
21 479.  
  
He danced.   
  
86 1914.  
  
He bulled.  
  
22 478.  
  
He charged.   
  
90 1910.  
  
He lunged.  
  
23 477.  
  
He failed.  
  
94 1906.  
  
She was too fast. Too damn fast, too damn small. He could see her, he had adjusted better to their mutual speeds, but it went both ways. She, too, could see and track his movements. Without all the stray blasts in the way, he had a much better chance of getting up close, where he could cleave her into quarters with Ki blades. However, in the trap, in the Amazon burrow, he had to work and maneuver his way through to his target. He had taken a beating to his defenses already, even though he hadn't fired off any more Ki projectiles, and even as Lai Zhol twisted and turned her staff, spouting glowing orbs from its crystal head ornament.   
  
24 476.  
  
She was in control of the fight. She'd dodge anything he threw. At the thought, Herb smirked, got into position, and let four quick blasts fly from his fingertips. As he anticipated, Lai Zhol dodged them, fired two blasts of her own back at him, and dodged the two of his that rebounded in her direction. She either didn't know or didn't care that she was being herded into a select spot.  
  
98 1902.  
  
Herb collected his power, formed it in his mind, and directed it to do his bidding. Two explosions clipping his side, he put both hands forward, towards Lai Zhol's projected vector, and fired an unfocused blast, more powerful than the ones previous, but wider. Such blasts were normally fairly useless, except against a particularly weak opponent, which Lai Zhol was not. Because the blast was unfocused, and covered a much larger area, it was less intense overall. As expected, Lai Zhol halted her momentum so as not to expose herself, and crossed her arms and cane in front of her. Yellow light flashed as she easily blocked the Ki he'd thrown at her.  
  
25 475.  
  
Then the Amazon Elder's eyes widened, her mouth opened to soundlessly scream, and she fell forward. She had forgotten about that the reflective wall behind her was concave. The energy that had gone past her from his unfocused blast had hit the wall, and been reflected, each point of it at a different angle - every angle leading it to focus onto a single point: Lai Zhol's back. Like an ant under a magnifying glass, the Ki had hit her fully focused, terribly intense, and ultimately deadly. Even if she had been expecting it, even if she had been ready, even if she had channeled her power into a defensive shield, it would still have crippled her.   
  
Lai Zhol was dead.  
  
Her torch hit the ground.  
  
***  
  
  
  
There, at Soryn, the largest army Saffron had yet assembled for one battle, including the majority of his airborne Phoenix Warriors, met a desperate group of hastily assembled Musk Warriors, the combined resources of the Seven Lucky Gods, a small motley band of Jyusenkyou Preservation Society Mercenaries, and several contingents of nearby Joketsuzoku Amazons. Except that the Amazons never showed up, not leaving their camps in the valley nearby. The Amazon Elders, who were suspicious of the Musk Lord's motives, had interrogated Lord Herb's mistress, who was pregnant with his child. They alleged that she had conspired to weaken the Council of Elders in the war, and replace them with herself as Queen, a station unoccupied among the Joketsuzoku for centuries. Whether this was true or not, or even if King Herb knew of this, is unknown - what is known, is that the Amazons were absent at Soryn when Saffron attacked.  
  
The fighting was brutal. Wave after wave of fanatical zealots slammed against the defending Musk, while the Lucky Gods barely held on against the flying Phoenix. The Musk left flank, exposed and weakened by the Amazon's absence, was eventually crushed and fell back, reformed, only to be crushed once more. As the two leaders dueled in the sky anew, it seemed as if the battle would soon turn completely against the Musk, and into a total rout. Then, however, in a perfect moment of bravery and sacrifice, the Lucky Gods steered their airship down and into the vast mortar bridge that spanned Soryn Pass. Enraged, Saffron let loose a massive attack, hulling the great flying ship from keel to stern. Fall to the ground; carried only by momentum and a single Lucky God at the helm, crushing a great number of the enemy under its bulk, the airship weakened the bridge to the point of collapse before skidding to a broken, ruined halt. As the remains of the bridge fell, and the gorge became impassable for supplies or peasant troops, Saffron bitterly retreated from the field, defeated, but at a horrible price.   
  
With the winter over, Saffron began a new offensive, directly targeting the Musk, to break the back of their depleted numbers. In assault after assault, he smashed through Musk fortifications, forcing withdrawals, until, finally, at Fortress Leao Mon, he again faced the Lord of the Musk in personal combat. As the battle raged between the two assembled armies, Saffron and Herb dueled. The skies burned red and yellow from their conflict, when, at last, the exhausted Dragon Lord plunged through Saffron's flames and fury, the maelstrom burning him away layer by layer, until they were finally face to face. Hands on his Uncle's shoulders, Herb's Ki erupted out of his body, devouring both Musk Lord and Phoenix King in their brilliance. Their master destroyed once more, the Phoenix retreated in disarray, while peasant forces died lamenting the loss of their God.   
  
On that day, the six-year-old Prince Herb the Fifth, Heir of Seventeen Generations, took his father's place.  
  
And the seeds of hatred, of the Serpent, had been sown. 


	13. Learning Curve part 28

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXVIII  
  
by: J. Wagner   
  
"Shinnosuke!!"  
  
The hoarse cry split the air, as tall fingers of fire, as if from some great hand, lapped up through the high branches, obscuring swaths of the sky. Overhead, the sun disappeared behind gouts of black smoke. In the distance, some unknown animal screamed, in fright or pain, the guardian of Ryugenzawa couldn't tell. Wiping sweat drenched hair from his forehead, Shinnosuke focused on the here and now, and on finding some avenue of escape.   
  
Jumping to the left, he narrowly avoided a falling branch, still burning wildly. Behind the flame and the bush, he saw large shadowed creatures moving, trying frantically to escape the conflagration. He heard his grandfather call out for him again, and managed to pinpoint the voice from that rough direction. Gritting his teeth, Shinnosuke raised his hands to his mouth, and released a warbling birdcall. Taking a deep breath, he repeated it, and jumped just as a giant platypus charged through the bushed, trampling the flames nearby.   
  
Leaping up over the animal, he twisted in midair, barely avoiding the panicked creature's tail and scrambling legs. Of all the beasts of Ryugenzawa, Shinnosuke was most wary of the platypi. The males were extremely aggressive, and (he'd been told about, after forgetting) the wounds on his back attested to the poison they could inject from the bone spurs on their hind legs. Avoiding another burning branch as he moved through the air, Shinnosuke landed, and headed towards the only home he'd ever known - a small house in the middle of the forest. All around him, stampeding animals ran and reared, surrounded by the flame.   
  
Only then, when Shinnosuke saw his house, burning and ruined, did he realize that the ancient forest of Ryugenzawa would not survive the night. Breathing heavily, smoke choking his lungs, he ran around to the side of the house and saw his grandfather; the old man was desperately trying to put out the fire with buckets of water from the nearby well. Seeing Shinnosuke approach, he coughed, but kept on his feet, displaying a measure of strength and determination his grandson hadn't seen in years (and certainly couldn't remember).  
  
"Shinnosuke!" he yelled, voice still strong. "Help your grandfather... we have to... we have to..."  
  
"We have to get out of here!" The younger man grabbed his grandfather by the shoulders. It wouldn't be what the older man would want to hear, but it had to be said, none-the-less. It was the simple truth. "Now, Grandfather!"  
  
The other man's soot covered face contorted into a deep scowl. "We will NOT abandon this house! Our home!"  
  
"If we stay here, we are... going... to... die!" Adrenalin pumping through his veins, Shinnosuke slapped the bucket from his grandfather's hands and grabbed his shoulders. "Look around you, Grandfather! In a few hours, there won't be anything left to abandon in this whole forest!"  
  
The old man grimaced and looked away. "We can't leave... you...you need..."  
  
"What?" Shinnosuke was normally a polite and calm boy, but this was an extreme situation that warranted an extreme response. They simply couldn't afford to argue over this. As the younger man hauled his legal guardian away from the blazing wreck of their home, and through an as-yet untouched part of the forest, above them, straddling the tree line, a man lowered his binoculars.  
  
"Do we let them go?" he asked his companion.  
  
"Negative." The other man smiled broadly, face covered by mottled brown and green paint. "They won't get far. Radio Chopper Two. Tell them to rendezvous with us at the pool and converge on the primary target."  
  
Below them, Ryugenzawa burned.  
  
  
  
***  
  
Saotome Nodoka was happy.  
  
Perhaps 'happy' was an inaccurate word to describe her feelings. She was actually rather enthusiastic, being so close to finally seeing her husband and her son. She was also looking forward to meeting an old friend of her husband's, Tendo Soun - who she had never met before, but had heard much about in the intervening years between when they'd been engaged and when Genma had left with Ranma. The wait, however, was wracking her nerves with anxiety. How much did Ranma remember of his mother? A little? ... Nothing? Already he was seventeen years old; she had no doubt missed out on much of his young life, and Genma's letters to her had dried up well over a year ago.  
  
For a while, she had feared for his safety.  
  
But no more. The boy escorting her to the Tendo home (Nodoka amended that: Hibiki Ryouga was asking directions, and she was leading him there) was a friend of her son, and knew her husband through association. What he had told her so far cemented her confidence in Genma - that their son had been raised to be a manly man. Unfortunately, the Hibiki boy seemed reluctant to go deeper into things. Nodoka came to the conclusion that he still wasn't totally sure that she was who she claimed to be and would wait before divulging anything too personal or important.   
  
What a good friend his son had!  
  
"Umm... Hibiki-kun, didn't we just pass this way?" Nodoka paused at an intersection.  
  
A sweat drop appeared on the young man's head.  
  
"I usually jump my way to the Tendos, you know. I don't wander around like this anymore," he said, self-consciously. Ryouga looked down, ashamed. "I'm getting you lost, Mrs. Saotome. Maybe you'd be better off without me."  
  
"Nonsense. My son was taking you home, until you saved my life and lost him. Now, it is my responsibility to do so. It is the least I can do for the nice man reuniting me with my family, Hibiki-kun."  
  
"Nice man? Me?" Ryouga's lips tightened. "I'm not really..."  
  
"What did you mean by 'jump' your way?" Nodoka quickly changed the subject. She had quickly learned that the Hibiki boy was easily depressed, and tended to brood while he walked. When he did so, it was obvious that he only got more lost.  
  
"Well. I just jump up onto a roof, or a chimney, or the highest point I can find," he replied, looking up, searching for good targets. "That over there would be prefect." He pointed to a six-story apartment building. "Once I'm at the top, I just ...well, jump around until I see the Tendo property. It works really well in a residential neighborhood like Nerima, because none of the buildings are too tall. In downtown Tokyo, it's more difficult and dangerous, not just because of the heights, but because of the wind and... I'm rambling. Sorry."  
  
Nodoka blinked.  
  
"That doesn't explain how you 'jump' around, Hibiki-kun."  
  
"I jump. You know. Jump. Jump!"  
  
"Up there?" She pointed to the promontory he'd singled out just before.   
  
Ryouga nodded.  
  
"All the way up there?" She asked again. "You can jump up there?"  
  
He nodded again. "Yeah."  
  
She frowned. "That's impossible."  
  
"Well, it's all in the legs." He tilted his head slightly. "And localizing your Ki." He noted that Nodoka still didn't follow. "You've seen Genma do a high jump before, right?"  
  
She shook her head. "My husband can jump quite high, but no one can jump up there..."  
  
"Well, maybe I should just show you." Ryouga pivoted, tensed his legs in a crouch, and jumped. Nodoka blinked fiercely, not quite believing what she was seeing. Ryouga was in midair, arms out for balance, in a total defiance of gravity. She had always prided herself on being the knowledgeable wife of a martial artist, but Genma had never done anything like *that* around her before. She hadn't even imagined that he could. She had known that he was a powerful martial artist, but not that he, or anyone, was really capable of throwing off the shackles of gravity like this boy just did.   
  
Nodoka quickly gasped.  
  
"No! Hibiki-kun! This way!" Ryouga pivoted from where he'd landed. He had turned around, but missed her, and was about to jump in the wrong direction. Her voice caught him before he did, however, and he saw her. With a quick leap, he fell the six stories, to land lightly and without a sound only a few feet in front of her.  
  
"See? Easy." He shrugged the weight of his pack, adjusting it slightly.  
  
"Can... can my son can do that?" Nodoka asked, incredulous.  
  
"Ranma can jump at least five stories without much of a problem. He could definitely make it with a running start, though. Your husband... I'm not as sure." Ryouga shrugged. "Maybe. Probably."  
  
"Incredible. Did you see the Dojo?"  
  
"I think so. It was... it... er..." Ryouga raised one arm and nervously scratched the back of his neck. "I kinda can't say for sure."  
  
"Well, that's all right. We'll find it eventually."  
  
"I hope so," he grumbled, not in any position to refute or argue with her. Nodoka smiled again, trying to cheer him up. Hibiki Ryouga, she had no doubt, was a very nice boy. He was polite, respectful and at least fairly intelligent, despite his little directional handicap. He was also very strong, quite handsome, and manly, but he was also very passive around women, and more than a little sulking, as if something was eating him up deep inside. Nodoka dearly hoped her son was more assertive, more aggressive, than his friend. The whole shy martial artist routine was cute, in a way, but not what she was expecting from Genma's (and her) ideas of a true man among men.  
  
Her husband had always been a true embodiment of masculinity when she'd known him. He hadn't been the most attractive of men, but in his time she thought he'd possessed a sort of rugged roguishness that well suited him. When he wanted something, he pursued it, heedless of caution. He'd been unrepentant when caught leering at her, defiant of authority when it went against his honor code, and he'd been totally dedicated to the Art. It was the height of his training when they'd gotten together, and it was those memories of her fierce and independent husband that sustained her. Sometimes, he would lock himself away for hours, transcribing techniques and skills of his onto paper, before leaving to train. He always returned to her, bold and amorous. Things had changed somewhat when little Ranma had been born, and Genma had transferred his focus from himself to his son.   
  
"Tell me again how Ranma fights, Hibiki-kun," she asked him, as they walked.  
  
"Again?" Ryouga sighed. "Well... he usually dances around a lot. He's very quick and likes to taunt his opponents. He almost always waits until they get angry before he gets serious and takes the offensive. He draws his opponent in, maneuvers and controls the fight, usually. When he fights most people he holds back... when we fight, he really lets loose. His fists are like lightning bolts, so quick they... pour down like rain. But he always knows when to stop. He never goes so far that he would hurt someone without absolutely having to. He values life more than... most people, I think."  
  
He'd just added that last part, the lost boy realized, and shut up.   
  
"I can't wait to meet him," Nodoka repeated.  
  
Ryouga didn't reply.  
  
A small part of him winced just talking to this woman about Ranma. Ryouga looked at her, and saw his own mother, with short dark hair, knowing smile, and warm embrace, telling him that he was loved, and that someone was proud of him. In his mother's presence, troubles faded into the background, replaced by a fleeting moment of caring and kinship. Even when it was his father, a more distant and stern figure, there was the current of warm emotion and... Ryouga quickly snuffed the thoughts before they made him more depressed.   
  
He had not seen his parents in years.  
  
Deep inside, Ryouga could feel a seething resentment slowly building up. Given time, it would become a fortress inside his mind, and another reason to dislike and be jealous of Ranma. He could not risk that. He could not risk more anger and hate and resentment and jealousy and depression surging up into his thoughts and influencing his actions. He was dangerous enough as he was. More of those terrible thoughts and feelings would only erode the shell of his humanity. With sheer force of will, he crushed the thoughts underfoot and buried the feelings where they would never surface. Never survive.  
  
"Would you like to see some pictures of him?" Nodoka asked, a bit hesitantly.  
  
Ryouga's mind screamed 'no!!!!' but his body just nodded pleasantly. "Why not?"  
  
He spent the next few minutes being bombarded by small pictures of his formerly hated rival. A few drew laughter, the one of Ranma crying after he wet his bed (a common occurrence in his youth, apparently) was something he'd have to remind his rival of next time they argued, but most of the rest... pictures of a young Ranma held tenderly by his mother, the picture with him in his father's arms, with Nodoka just to the side smiling happily, these scenes of joy, of a content family, tore at his heart and self-control. He wanted to rip them to pieces. He wanted others to suffer as he did.   
  
A small voice, like a whisper, wanted the whole world to suffer as he had.  
  
Every man, woman and child.  
  
Luckily, they found the Tendo dojo more quickly than Ryouga had anticipated, sparing any further mental extrapolation on that line of thought. Approaching the door, slightly ahead of Mrs. Saotome, he thought back over the training trip he was now concluding. In some respects, it had been a success, and he was ... happy with the way things had turned out.  
  
He had improved his Ki control by a fair margin, which was certainly one of the primary goals he'd set for himself beforehand. He'd learned to better focus and maintain the equilibrium between his internalized and externalized Ki, reigning in his battle aura. A massive flare of aura was, at this point, as much a liability as a boon. With the Hiryu Shoten Ha, Ranma had a very effective counterattack to powerful auras, so Ryouga had made it a special priority to find a way to utilize the 'crushing' power of his anger-depression battle aura (a necessary counter to the Umisenken) without exposing undue amounts of energy to the Ascending Dragon technique.  
  
He'd improved his danger sense as well, which had stagnated over the last few weeks, as well as some done new experiments on further modifying his Iron Cloth techniques. Ranma had been instrumental in this pursuit, just as Ryouga had assisted his rival in perfecting his adaptations of the Amaguriken and Hiryu Shoten Ha. Looking into the future, the lost boy had some interesting ideas for creating his own class of special techniques, either based off the Iron Cloth, the Bakusai Tenketsu, or both. He'd already developed and used the Yubisaki Ishimi Miketsukan (Finger Touch Imprisonment), Tekimen Kongou Gishu (Instant Diamond Hand) and Tekimen Kongou Toushin (Instant Diamond Blade), so maybe the next step from Iron Cloth would be Diamond Cloth. How old had Genma been when he developed the Umisenken? Surely no more than twenty four. Ryouga was already seventeen, soon to be eighteen; it was time to start thinking about his future.  
  
Of course, outside martial arts what kind of a future did he have, anyway?  
  
Shaking his head at the depressing Ki building within him, Ryouga suppressed it with a small shudder. While his training trip had helped him in all the ways it traditionally would (improving in the Art) he had failed to gain any sense of inner peace, which was what he had truly hoped for. Worse, it wasn't even Ranma's fault. The pigtailed boy had been aggravating at times, but also... sometimes, he was fun to be with. Fun to talk to. Then again, after years of loneliness, Ryouga wasn't too picky when it came to finding friendship. He'd just as quickly found an affinity for Shampoo, Ukyou, and Mousse. He even considered Kuno an acquaintance of sorts.  
  
This left the lost boy with a rival, but no one to hate.   
  
Except himself. Then again, Ryouga knew he didn't truly hate himself - even after killing Taro - That was the shameful part, the secret he could let no one know. He had reveled in it. He would do it again, if he could: leave that poor bastard buried under a literal landslide of rock and rubble. The feeling he felt for himself was more complicated than that, and difficult to put into words. Regardless, that aspect of things had not been improved by his little month long walkabout.  
  
Standing in front of the door now, Ryouga knocked gently. He was home... of sorts. Mr. Tendo was a nice man, though prone to rashness and fits, but Ryouga couldn't quite ever think of him as a fill-in father. Despite the older man's surviving skill in the Art, he was not as imposing or strict a figure as Ryouga's actual biological father, and in the Hibiki household, his father had always been the disciplinarian. It was from him that Ryouga was handed the family curse, and it had fallen on him to teach his son on the ways of survival on one's own. Tendo Soun was more of a peer, almost.   
  
Of Saotome Genma, Ryouga had no strong feels any way. He was the lost boy's elder, but Genma had lost much of the respect due to him from age and experience with displays of cowardice, greed, thievery and general dishonesty. What he had done to Ukyou, in particular, was unforgivable in Ryouga's eyes, and the near cooking (though Genma hadn't known that pig had once been human and never tried to eat him afterwards) had never been forgotten.   
  
Kasumi was great - she was a gentle soul if ever there was one. She was a little oblivious of things, but really, was he one to point out that fault in anybody? He'd been called clueless himself enough times. Kasumi was a caregiver in every definition of the word, and the heart of the Tendo family. Ryouga found he got along well with Kasumi, who had taken liberty of his being around, letting him help around the house and feel useful. All without him even having to ask!  
  
Ironically, it was Akane that he had the most trouble relating to. Despite having a rather intense infatuation with her for a few weeks, what seemed like a lifetime ago, the barrier that the P-chan debacle had created remained between them. Akane had forgiven him (or said she had, a couple times), but he still hadn't forgiven himself, and found that being around her still made him nervous and secretly ashamed of what he had done. It wasn't like he had avoided her or anything. He spent time helping her train in the Dojo, they watched television together occasionally, and unlike the other Tendo girls, she and he shared a background in the Art.   
  
But her anger and intensity intimidated him. Scared him, even. Now, Shampoo had a pretty mean streak to her, and a certain dangerous edge to her behavior and personality. Yet, perhaps because she had been raised in a certain way, Shampoo dealt with her anger fairly well. She would lash out physically quite rarely, and tended to switch from sad to happy very quickly. Ukyou also had a bad temper, but it took a lot to really rile her up, though she would rarely hesitate to bop someone on the head playfully.   
  
Akane, though, got angry extremely quickly, and often (Ryouga now saw) without due provocation. She was a lot like himself in that regard, he had to admit, the difference being that while Ryouga let his anger smolder and generally reigned in any sort of immediate physical response (unless he felt extremely slighted), Akane just let loose... If he were like that, without inhibition, he'd have probably left a trail of bodies behind him, from Shanghai to Osaka.   
  
Then there was Nabiki, who confused him more than anyone he knew. She had convinced him to go to Furinkan, and to study for the entrance exams, and to stay with the Tendos, and... and she was his anchor, here. Without her, he'd have almost certainly have left after the last great fight he'd had with Ranma. With her, he had something approaching a normal relationship (he thought). They had gone out on dates, like regular human beings and she had 'let' him pay like a gentleman should, and there hadn't been any fighting or malleting or uppercuts-into-the-roof. They studied together, and sometimes she'd let him in on her schemes, which while often dishonest, she found amusing, so he usually went along with it for her sake. With her, around her, he had found some happiness... a bulwark to cling to when things seemed like they were falling apart.  
  
So why had he ran from her?  
  
'Because I'm not used to it.' He had decided, after hours of thinking the situation over. He wasn't used to anything approaching a normal life, so how could anyone expect him to instantly adapt to one? Nabiki would understand, when he described it to her later. Hell, she probably already knew, but it was best to share this insight with her anyway. He owed it to her. It would take some time to find the right compromise, because he would and could never be truly normal, not even for her, but he would try. Wasn't that what mattered?  
  
Who else was there? Oh yes: Natsume and Kurumi. The two lost Tendo girls. Though it was his fault they'd shown up at the dojo in the first place, he really didn't know them too well. Kurumi seemed to like him as a source of new foodstuffs, and a sort of older brother. Natsume was more complicated. That girl was as cold as Nabiki, and didn't speak a whole lot; though it was obvious her main concern was keeping the two of them in their new home and winning over their estranged father. And then there was one: the old man. Happosai was a pervert and a dirty lecher. On that topic, he turned to face Nodoka. "Saotome-san. Does the name 'Happosai' right a bell?"  
  
"Oh, yes." She nodded curtly. "My husband trained under Happo-sensei when he was around your age, up to and until Ranma was born."  
  
"Do you know of his... ahem, 'habits?'" Ryouga asked, slowly.  
  
"He likes to peep at girls when they change, and usually tries to grope them as well. He steals women's underwear, he often barges in and eats other peoples' meals, and he's very fond of sake to the point of redefining overindulgence..."  
  
He sweat-dropped. "Oh. Well. He's here. Just, um... so you know."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about me, Ryouga-kun! Genma will defend my honor if his *former* Master tries anything."  
  
"He will?"   
  
Was this the same Saotome Genma they were thinking about?  
  
"Of course he will." Nodoka sounded very confident, and Ryouga let the matter drop. She'd been fairly warned.   
  
"Hello? Who is..." An attractive young woman with long brown hair and a summer dress opened the door and smiled at seeing who it was. "Ryouga-kun! You made it... but where is Ranma-kun?" Her eyes moved to Nodoka. "And who is this?"  
  
"You're not going to believe..." He started to say.  
  
"Saotome Nodoka." Nodoka bowed politely. "You must be Tendo Kasumi. Ryouga has told me much about you."  
  
Ryouga clarified. "She's Ranma's *mother* ..."  
  
"Oh my." Kasumi opened the door fully and gave a small bow. "This is a surprise. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. Traveling with Ryouga-kun, I imagine you've been on the road for some time. Would you like some tea?"  
  
Nodoka stepped inside. "That would be wonderful, thank you."  
  
Ryouga followed a few feet behind. He watched Kasumi and Nodoka exchange pleasantries, and then looked around for Nabiki. Slowly, he made his way to the living room. Fortunately, he'd spent enough time in the Tendo home to prevent getting lost too easily, and could usually navigate the premises confidently when in his human form.   
  
"Saotome-san!" He heard Kasumi yell, her volume just enough to be heard yet not seem un-ladylike. "Saotome-san, you have a guest!"  
  
A voice responded from upstairs: "Be right there, Kasumi!"   
  
"Oi! Kasumi!" Ryouga called out, turning slightly to see her. Taking off his backpack, he carefully put it down on the floor leaning against a nearby wall. Opening the top, he asked, "Where's Nabiki? Is she around?"  
  
"She went out with Natsume-chan a few hours ago." Kasumi's eyes lighted up when Ryouga handed her a small box and book. "Are these for me, Ryouga-kun?"  
  
"Yep." He nodded. "I got ya' some tea cakes, and the book is by some American woman. It was on the best seller list."  
  
"That was very thoughtful." She took the gifts and bowed curtly. "Thank you very much, Ryouga-kun."  
  
Ryouga waved it off. "Don't sweat it. I got stuff for everybody."  
  
"Did'ya get anything for me, boy?" Genma asked, walking in from behind.  
  
The lost boy smirked. "You could say I did..."  
  
"Genma?" Nodoka yipped, seeing her husband in the flesh after over a decade. "Genma!"  
  
"N.n.n..n... Nodoka!?" The elder Saotome 's eyes widened threefold.   
  
"Oh Genma! It's been so long!" Crystal tears trailing down her cheeks, Nodoka jumped into his arms and embraced him.  
  
"N... now... Nodoka... Ah I... aa..."  
  
"I missed you so much, husband!"  
  
Finally, Genma seemed to compose himself, principally after realizing that Ryouga and Nodoka hadn't shown up with his good-for-nothing son. Slowly, he let himself wrap his arms around his wife. It did feel infinitely good to have her in his arms again - now, all he had to do was keep her away from her son until they could cure his little aqua-transsexual problem. Not easy, but not impossible. Much as he loved her, Saotome Nodoka had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.   
  
"And I you, wife!" Genma hugged her back, eyes closed. "It is... so good to see you again!"  
  
"Our son... has he...?"  
  
"Ranma is, indeed, a man among men..."  
  
"Isn't this touching, Ryouga-kun? Won't Ranma be happy when he gets home?"  
  
"Maybe." Ryouga 'hmffed' and crossed his arms. "I didn't do this for Ranma... I did it because..."  
  
He didn't finish his sentence, and instead headed for the dojo.  
  
***  
  
Tokyo  
  
Futara Arms Apartments  
  
"So: we have full authorization to move ahead?"  
  
"Yes." Pearl Adams sighed, leaning back and into the apartment's only couch. "We do. I double-checked the coded message in case there was a mistake. It was all legit."  
  
"And? What did it say?"  
  
"The Society wants the primary and secondary targets taken out of circulation."  
  
"Ah. Ok, then!" Kenji paced, as he was want to do whenever anticipation got the better of him. "Well, we all knew it was just a matter of time before the order was given."  
  
At the far side of the room, seated by his monitoring and surveillance equipment, Yosho added, his tone neutral, "The timing works for us, too. Both of the primary targets should be present by tomorrow."  
  
"What do you have prepped and ready, Kenji?" Adams asked, after a few moments' hesitation.  
  
"Well..." The Japanese-American thumbed his thin goatee. "I was thinking of using a home made Claymore, kind of pointing up and out, with a nice wide cone." He made a little tent shape with his fingers, his tone excited. "The .2 kg piece I rigged together might be enough... but I've just about finished putting together a much larger .5 kg block of C-4 that should be more than enough to take out any of the targets within... oh, I'd say, two rooms. The walls aren't so thick, so even if someone's in the floor above the explosion, there's a good chance of taking them out. Still, optimally, you'd want it in the den, as close to the primaries as possible."  
  
"Collateral damage is...?" Pearl protested half-heartedly.  
  
"Unavoidable, boss. You know that." Kenji paused in his pacing and faced the other man. "Better safe than sorry... besides, the Tendo house itself is far enough from the street that it's highly unlikely any bystanders will be caught in the kill zone."  
  
"Yosho? What do you think?"  
  
"Make a surprise visit ... in two days. Kenji, how small a package are you putting together?"  
  
"The usual. I can make it look like a box of chocolates or somethin'."  
  
"Good." Yosho rubbed his hands together. "We make the delivery, a mail courier could work, or the boss could drop it off himself. Either is good. A Radio trigger would be optimal."  
  
"Of course." Kenji agreed.  
  
"Then we just set it off." Yosho' hands flew apart. "Boom."  
  
"Plus," Kenji added in. "If we're being given permission to move with this, that means Command already has everything in place to cover for us. Hey, is it true that Tomiko's Team hit their Beta site already?"  
  
"It'll be all over the news tonight, no doubt." Adams spoke up, answering to the affirmative. "The whole thing came off without a hitch. She called me up to brag personally. Says all we have to do is cleanup."  
  
"Oh, please." Yosho groaned, rolling his eyes. "Tomiko's talking out of her ass. All she had to do was shoot a bunch of big dumb animals. Plus, she got an additional team AND helicopters to get the job done. We're the ones out risking our necks trying to take out a gang of punks who can crater concrete with their fists. Cleanup... that's bullshit!"  
  
"No kidding." Kenji nodded and sat on the edge of the couch. "So we make the hit in two days?"  
  
Pearl Adams slowly stood and straightened out his shirt. "I've got a different plan."  
  
"Oh?" Yosho's eyebrows rose suspiciously.   
  
Adams walked around Kenji, to a desk on the far side of the apartment's living room, to the flickering light of the muted television. Next to it, he pulled out a black suitcase and gently put it down on top of the minibar. With a sharp click, he opened the case and reached in, taking out a single small white egg.   
  
"Yeah." Pearl held the egg up to the light. "These came in a few days ago. I say we try 'em out."  
  
Kenji and Yosho looked at each other, then back at Pearl and smiled. Their leader carefully put the surikomi egg back in its padded case. "And I know just how."  
  
***  
  
It was late afternoon when Ranma returned to the Tendo Dojo. Ryouga had been on the roof, ostensibly meditating, when he felt the sense of familiarity approach. The only secular (for lack of a better word) way to describe it was like a faint warm breeze, not offensive or overpowering, but simply an addition to the otherwise maudlin events of the world around him. Not needing, or feeling, like rousing himself, Ryouga instead stayed and listened as some sort of scuffle occurred downstairs.   
  
From the heart of Tokyo, a chill wind blew in, rustling the lost boy's hair. Nonetheless, he felt more at peace than he had in weeks, focusing not on the present state of affairs, but on simply being. He was content to be here. He was comfortable staying in one place, and it filled him with a great sense of satisfaction that he had come to terms with the concept of simply being anywhere. It was a step... a step in the right direction. While not particularly religious in any formal sense, the Hibiki family was traditionally Buddhist, and Ryouga's own lack of peace had always troubled him.   
  
He drew in a sharp breath, feeling that warm caress of Ki again, but from a different direction. His young Ki senses had been wrong, it seemed. It wasn't Ranma that he had felt approaching. Opening his eyes, Ryouga inclined his head to be sure, and stood up.   
  
"Nabiki?"   
  
The middle Tendo daughter carefully kept her footing on the roof tiles and took a few steps towards him. "Ryouga."  
  
No Nabi-chan.   
  
No Ryo-chan.  
  
'Looks like we're back to square one with each other,' he thought, bitterly. Looking at her afresh, he felt a sharp pang from deep inside his soul. She was wearing one of her kimonos, a rare occurrence, since she typically only put them on for special occasions. He'd only seen her a few times in one, and it had never failed to take his breath away. Radiant in a pattern of crystal blue on white, carps and waves, he had to force himself to look away, for even a moment. They had to make a choice, each of them, then and there.   
  
And her appearance would only make him stutter and lose resolve. Her beauty had nothing to do with his feelings. He reached into his pants pocket, and picked out what he'd gotten for her, encircling it in his palm. Resolving himself, standing firm against another gust of cold wind, he walked towards her. The next words almost never made it from his mouth, but at this point, he was wholly committed.  
  
"Nabi-chan." He said it experimentally, and made bolder by her anxious silence, continued. "I missed you."  
  
She looked at him firmly. "I know. You sent flowers. And chocolates."  
  
In that moment, he wanted to give her his present. He wanted to bribe her heart. She would like what he got her: of this he was sure. But still the lost boy stayed his hand. Gulping, he stopped in front of her, and looked away slightly, silently ashamed of still being so shy and indecisive. She took the initiative he'd missed.  
  
"Why did you leave, Ryo-kun?"   
  
He perked up at hearing his name spoken with affinity. It gave him heart, but in a way, also made him sad. She didn't say it, but she was asking, more accurately: 'Why did you leave me?'  
  
And he couldn't say, 'It wasn't you, it was me' because that was a lie. It was she as well as he. It was this place. It was the happiness he still, deep in his heart of hearts, didn't feel he had earned or deserved. Though he felt content here, now, it was destined to not always be so. His recent experiences had taught him that his restraint couldn't be yet be trusted, and that something dark flowed through his veins. Nabiki knew of his darker impulses, she had seen it first hand, but Ryouga knew she didn't fully comprehend them.   
  
Murderer.  
  
'Why do you have to make me feel happy?' Ryouga's mind blamed her.   
  
'Why is this feeling so alien? This warmth in my breast?' And, more than anything, he blamed himself.   
  
Murderer!  
  
'I'll do it again,' he thought with absolute, horrible certainty. 'Some things, a man like me, are incapable of change. I can grow, and I can adapt, but I can never really change.'  
  
Nabiki must have seen the expression on his face, because she took a step forward and asked again. "Ryo-kun..."   
  
That one word said more than before, more concisely than ever. Then, amazingly, she smirked and looked away, at the sky, its daytime light slowly fading. "You know... for a while I thought you had a thing for Shampoo. Or Ukyou. I mean, they're fighters like my sister... except a lot better. They see and knew a side of you I can only imagine, a side you've tried explaining, but I have no reference for. I knew I couldn't compete with that, not outright. I wasn't even sure if it was worth risking losing over. But I tried."  
  
"I know you have problems. I know because I see it on your face every day, in your eyes." She still didn't look at him. "I see it in the way you move. And... and... and I wanted to help. I wanted to help you, because I was willing to bet that you were a good guy who had gotten dealt a bad hand."   
  
She sighed. "I'm going to be graduating soon. What friends do I have? What memories? What do people think of me; on the rare occasion they see past my sisters? You were different, and around you, I was different. I was happier." She closed her eyes, shutting in tears. "Don't tell me you weren't."  
  
"I was happier. We were." Ryouga reached out, his free hand to her shoulder, so gently his hand shook to keep steady. She turned, and her eyes opened, looking right into his. "But I'll hurt you, Nabi-chan. I won't want to... I'd never want to... but I don't trust myself. You make me... you make me feel..."  
  
He searched for the word, his vocabulary falling to pieces. "You make me feel like I've never felt before. It confuses me. It... it scares me. Because I want to hold you, but I can't." He shook his head. "I can't hold anyone, because I know they'll break."  
  
"Is that what you're worried about?" She smiled, wanly. "Hurting me? You're the gentlest person I know."  
  
Ryouga shook his head. "You have to be kidding."  
  
"I'm not," she stressed, speaking seriously. "And the only one who doesn't have faith in you..." A slender hand reached out and rested on the chest, right over his heart. "Is you, Ryo-kun."  
  
He looked deep into her eyes, and with the hand that still held his gift to her, silently slipped it into her palm. He had seen, in those brown depths, no hint of malice or faithlessness from the middle Tendo girl. She did believe in him, a hundred fold more than he believed in himself. Why? How? He didn't know, but she did.   
  
"This..." He gently closed her hand over the gift. "Is for you."  
  
"Thank you," she said, without even looking at it. Leaning in close, she kissed him on the cheek, and he blushed crimson. Only then did Nabiki open her hand and see what he had gotten her. In the light of the late day, a beautiful gold and silver money clip glinted, in the shape of the symbol representing yen. Her eyes lighted up, and she gasped.   
  
By her estimates, it must've cost at *least* fifteen thousand yen!  
  
"OH, RYO-CHAN!!"   
  
She pounced on him, and he fell back, arms and legs akimbo. "Na-bi-ki!!! You'll get your kimono dirty!"  
  
Apparently, he quickly realized, she didn't care.  
  
***  
  
"...Ever since Ranma left, my heart had grieved. But when my noble husband made it clear to me that, for Ranma's training to succeed, he must be removed from maternal influences, I knew I had to sacrifice for my child. For my dear son."  
  
As Nodoka spoke, Ranma shifted nervously from where he sat. Genma was next to him, and for that, Ranma was grateful. So: This was his mother? She seemed like a nice enough lady, though he really had no idea how to relate to her. He certainly couldn't treat her like he treated his old man, the pigtailed martial artist knew that much at least, but what exactly he was supposed to do with her, he didn't quite fathom.   
  
From what she'd described of herself, and some of her life, she wasn't a martial artist. She came from a one time rival of the Saotome family, the Tanaka's (Ranma had never heard of ANY of this before, but had kept silent), who had arranged the marriage between herself and Genma. Soun had taken that moment to point out how arranged marriages had a lower divorce rate than normal ones, even during 'trying times.' Ranma had let it pass, because he knew Akane would express enough discontent for the both of them.   
  
And she had.  
  
Still, Ranma was bothered. He didn't have anything in common with this woman. At least nothing he could think of at the moment. So, for one of the few times in his life, Ranma sat down and listened intently, having no idea what to do. Or even what to say. 'Hi mom! It's been a while! Is dinner ready?'  
  
Uh... no.  
  
"You must trust Saotome-san a great deal to leave Ranma in his care for so long," Kasumi said, smiling politely as always.   
  
"I do trust my husband. Explicitly. Additionally, I recorded Genma's vow as a contract." Nodoka took out a piece of paper, for all the Tendo family present (sans Nabiki) to see. The room was already rather crowded, even with two people not present. Natsume and Kurumi were already standing instead of sitting.   
  
"I swear to make Ranma the greatest martial artist of his generation." Genma repeated the vow, eyes closed, face stern. "My son Ranma shall be a man among men."  
  
Ranma's eyebrows fell, and he gave his father a sidelong glance. "You didn't mention the *seppuku* part, oyaji."  
  
"..." Genma's stern mask faded a bit.  
  
Nodoka wiped away a tear, remembering that day. "I kept this contract, and on that day, swore I would defend the honor of our family. I vowed I would hold them to their promise, and if necessary, do my duty as their kaikhaku. As the wife of a great martial artist, I could do no less."  
  
Genma big sweated.   
  
"You're serious?!" Akane asked, incredulous.  
  
Nodoka picked up the parcel she had kept by her side, reached in, and firmly grasped the hilt of a katana to draw it out. "Of course I am... woops!"  
  
Thunk!  
  
Ranma gulped, hard. Tentatively, he pulled out the sword that had imbedded its razor sharp tip in the hardwood floor just inches from his crotch. After a moment's hesitation, he carefully handed it back to her.  
  
"Thank you, Ranma dear." She took the sword, and after two tries, got it back into the sheath. "I'm afraid I'm still not very adept with it."  
  
"Um..." Ranma adjusted the collar of his best Chinese styled shirt. Genma had insisted he wear his finest for this occasion, and the Tendo girls had all put on kimonos for this great reunion. Hearing something, Ranma looked over his shoulder, as Ryouga and Nabiki entered the living room. It looked like she'd fallen down while getting the lost boy off the roof for the gathering they were having. Then there was the goofy look on Ryouga's face...  
  
Ranma rolled his eyes.  
  
"However, seeing my son, and hearing so much of him from his friend," Nodoka inclined her head in Ryouga's direction. "I can see that my fears were totally unfounded. My son, my strong, handsome, wonderful son, is a man among men!"  
  
Ranma nodded slowly. He couldn't argue with logic like that.  
  
"And now he can come home again!"  
  
Ranma kept nodding. Home didn't sound too bad.  
  
"Ahem." Genma coughed, getting everyone's attention. "I don't think so."  
  
Nodoka raised her hand to her mouth prettily. "But husband..."  
  
"Ranma's training is not complete. While he may be a man among men, he is not yet the premier martial artist of his generation. I would be remiss to allow him to end his training on such a note... no," Genma said, voice full of authority and fatherly wisdom. "While he may be able to come home soon, that time is not now."  
  
"Are you absolutely sure, husband?" Nodoka asked, voice sorrowful.  
  
"You must endure, wife!" Genma stood up, fist clenched and striking a noble pose. "Endure just a little longer! Until my vow is fulfilled, I cannot bring Ranma home."  
  
"Oh... oh Genma..." Nodoka looked down, her features pained. "Can I at least stay here for a few days? Please, Tendo-san?"  
  
Soun looked up at Genma. Finally, Genma nodded, and Soun did the same. "Please. Make yourself at home."  
  
"Oh dear." Kasumi added. "Our house is getting very crowded."  
  
"No kidding." Nabiki quipped. "How are we doing to work out sleeping arrangements? Natsume and Kurumi have already moved into the guest room, and the boys were supposed to be in the Dojo. Daddy's on the first floor, and the Happosai takes up the Drawing Room. That's pretty much a full house."  
  
"Oh." Nodoka sighed, sadly. "I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"Did someone mention me?" Happosai jumped out of nowhere and onto the table.   
  
Nodoka gasped. "Happo-sensei?"  
  
"No-chan! How sweet to see you again!" He leapt at her bosom. "Let's remember old times!"  
  
A second later, the old man was stomped into submission and kicked out via the porch. ... By Genma. Ranma was frozen where he stood. He hadn't even needed to get up. His father had actually handled the freak by himself. He slowly sat back down, stunned silent.  
  
Soun patted his old friend on the back. "Well done, Saotome!"  
  
"It had to be done, Tendo." Genma crossed his arms. "Ranma. Your mother and I will take the evil Master's former room. You and Ryouga can have the Dojo."  
  
"Sounds good. I've got no problem with the Dojo," Ryouga said from where he stood, next to Nabiki, leaning against the doorframe. Standing up again, Ranma looked around the room. He'd forgotten just how many girls were living in the Tendo place while he was on the road: there'd be six of 'em, including his mother. Six and a half was more along Ryouga's line of thinking on that same subject.  
  
"Yeah, I know how ya feel. This house is like a Sorority or somethin'." Ranma dusted himself off, feeling more comfortable with the situation now. All he had to do was avoid getting wet for a few days, Nodoka would leave, and he'd go home after finding a cure for is Jyusenkyou curse. Facing Ryouga, he joked, "Still, one more lady in the house means one less chance of Akane cooking..."  
  
"RANMA!!"   
  
The aqua transsexual missed being punted into the koi pond by less than a foot.   
  
"Oh my." Kasumi put into words what everyone thought.   
  
***  
  
"That him?"  
  
"Yep. Pull over."  
  
The periphery of Tokyo was a dark place at night, the only illumination being the soft glow of the moon, distant neon lights, and the flicker of overhead lamps near the street. A young man walked the outer edges of those streets, in the half-light, a duffel bag over his right shoulder. Black boots had carried him far in his quest for revenge, and fulfillment of family honor, and they had finally brought him here: to the capitol.   
  
To Tokyo.   
  
The Saotome's were here.  
  
Cracking his knuckles, the youth smiled in grim anticipation. Once he'd found them and fulfilled the vow he'd made to his dying father, then Kumon Ryu would know peace. The additional knowledge of the Umisenken, and the resulting money and power he'd get from uniting the two techniques, was also a big bonus. Living poor had taught him the value of money, but once he'd perfected the forbidden techniques of Saotome Genma, and rebuilt the Kumon Dojo, he'd be able to learn just how much fun living RICH would be.  
  
He suspected that a direct comparison would favor the latter.  
  
"Oh ho? What's this?" The martial artist in question jumped away and backwards, as a white van sped up and over the curb, screeching to a halt. The side door slid open, and a man stepped out. He was unassuming - wearing brown khakis and a blue shirt. White blonde hair topped the foreigner's head, and he waved pleasantly.  
  
"Hey," the new man said, in English. "Howsit goin?"  
  
"What?" Ryu didn't catch that last part.  
  
"Catch." Adams threw something small and white in a leisurely arc. Ryu easily caught it in his right hand.   
  
'And egg?' He looked down at it, and back at the foreigner. 'What's wrong with this guy?'  
  
"Crush it. Go on!" Adams said, still smiling, and again using English. To demonstrate, he stomped his foot dramatically. "And if it works, you won't know what hit you."  
  
Perplexed, Kumon Ryu shrugged. Why not? Putting the chicken egg on the ground, he crushed it under one black boot. A second later, he saw only darkness and oblivion. Just a few feet away, Mayor Pearl Adams gave his comrades in the white van a knowing look. "Let's get this thing in the van. Quickly. We've got work to do." 


	14. Learning Curve part 29

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXIX  
  
by: J. Wagner  
  
Deep in the heart of China, in a land seemingly forgotten by the modern world, Kuonji Ukyou dried her hair to the soft hum of an electric generator. Not far off, she could easily hear a multitude of male voices, laughing, boasting, and talking, all in the thick regional Chinese that the Musk people spoke. The only thing between them and her was a thin sheet of black silk, and yet Ukyou felt absolutely safe, totally secure. The relaxing soak in a hot spring was a great boon for everyone, and a golden opportunity to unwind without worrying about being stared at and drooled over.  
  
Not that her self proclaimed mate and husband didn't try anything perverted. Herb had out and suggested they bathe together 'as man and wife' when camp had been made and again proportioned her to 'bear his heir.' At least that last request was something he brought up less often: only once since his last fight. She'd clonked him on the head, and he'd gone off to sulk about it. The stupidly sad look on his face made her smile involuntarily, and Ukyou blushed when she realized it.  
  
"That baka." She whispered, softly. Herb was a confusing man. He respected her fighting skills and prowess, and yet he treated her like virtual property, because she was a woman, and because he wanted her. For her part, she'd come to realize that while Herb was no one to pick a fight with, and had a nasty temper, he would never hurt her. He never fought back, never raised a hand against her, and at most would be content to argue a little and call her stubborn. Around her, with her, he was about as violent as a puppy dog.   
  
Yet...  
  
Ukyou remembered Mount Phoenix. She remembered Herb, a vicious smile on his face, swiping his arms and slicing a Phoenix warrior in half at mid-torso. She remembered the spray of blood, the fire in his eyes, the terrible purpose and efficiency behind every strike. She remembered, just as well, Herb testing her by mock ordering his General, Sumac, to kill another Musk, to see if she would intervene or not. The fact that he had ordered such a thing paled, though, compared to the fact that Sumac was willing to follow through. Still, she remembered him, most recently, striding out of the battlefield of Xaodin, flames lapping up from the burning outpost fort, the shriveled, broken body of Lai Zhol held high with his right hand, proudly displaying the trophy to his cheering Musk warriors.  
  
"Do you see? Do you see, my men, my servants, my Musk?" Herb laughed, slowly waving the burned and bloody corpse in the air, his voice deep and mesmerizing. Enchanting. "Do you see the victory in sight? This is only the beginning! Only the Beginning!!"  
  
Ukyou shuddered at the memory, trying to reconcile that Herb with the one who held her, and talked to her, and treated her so softly. So gently, and for the first time, made her feel like an actual woman. The one who said he loved her as much as any Musk could, and whose eyes begged for the same. Those deep, sad eyes, and the eyes of the demon she had seen that day... Just as surprising, just as terrifying, she had found herself excited by his words. She had felt her blood boil.   
  
Enchanting.  
  
Blushing deeply, she remembered how those eyes had both terrified and excited her. How, when he had strode up to her, tossing Lai Zhol's corpse on the ground, a savage primal smirk had graced his face, and those eyes had fallen on her alone. Lust. Hunger. Companionship. She had seen and felt and echoed those feelings he had projected through sharp green eyes, if only for a painful instant.  
  
And then: Control.  
  
Herb had turned away, and addressed his men who were standing over the old Amazon's body, his voice cold as glacial ice. "Impale her on a pike. Let the birds ... pick... at her bones."  
  
And that was it.  
  
They had resumed the march onward after staying at Xaodin for only three days. Only long enough to replenish their supply train, root out any Amazon sympathizers, and install a Musk Overseer. By the end of the week, after two days of bad weather (though thunder in the distance made her worry they weren't through it all), scouts had reported nearing a small hot springs, and Herb had decided to make camp to rest and build morale in the Musk ranks while awaiting reports from Sumac and Clove, who commanded the rest of the Musk Armies. It was just as well: they all needed a good clean, even Ukyou herself, though she had avoided getting into any serious fighting since the incident at Mount Phoenix.  
  
Guiltily, she looked around at all the things Herb had brought for her. The electrical generator she had for personal use was just the tip of the iceberg. Laid out for her use were a plethora of exotic scents and soaps and perfumes, most of which Ukyou had no idea what to do with. She was a fighter, and for most of her life, she had renounced her femininity training to defeat her then-enemy Saotome Ranma. For kami's sake, she even had two handmaids to help her 'with woman things' (as Herb had put it), though she'd quickly dismissed the two village girls, not feeling comfortable being waited on or slaved over.   
  
Finished drying herself off, Ukyou slipped on a green and blue silk robe, and brushing aside a corner of the blinds, stepped out of the steamy area. It was summer, still, but the nights were rather cold. Immediately, she sensed a strong presence to the side, and saw Mint take a step forward, at attention.   
  
"Lady Ukyou?" he asked, his young voice always surprising her. Mint, too, had killed at least one other warrior at Phoenix Mountain, yet he was still a teenager, barely more than fifteen. Though Ukyou herself was only eighteen, it was hard to believe that the wide eyes and almost innocent seeming Mint was still Musk - still a warrior, and the one servant Herb insisted she keep nearby at all times. Though Herb had disbanded the twenty man strong Royal Bodyguard, calling the task unnecessary, and reassigned them to the Armies, he had expressly kept Mint around to be her personal bodyguard.  
  
"Hello, Mint." She liked the boy. Most Musk were serious fellows, or at least much larger than herself and darkly imposing. The others, like Mint's brother, and Herb's half brother, gave her a chill when they walked by or had business to discuss. Sumac, in particular, made her feel uncomfortable; unable to shake that feeling she'd had when she first saw him, ready to kill a defenseless companion, simply because he was ordered to. Mint was almost the exact opposite of his older kinsman. He was kind, outside of battle, helpful, and seemed to exude a sort of youth and warmth.   
  
"How was your bath, Lady?"  
  
He also spoke excellent Japanese, for which Ukyou was thankful.  
  
"Very nice." Ukyou ran a hand through her long hair, causing Mint to blush and look away nervously. The two walked in silence away from the springs, Ukyou leading, Mint following, as in the distance, the heavy footfalls of fully armored Musk were the only sound breaking the early evening chorus of insects. It seemed to juxtaposed she realized, seeing their shadows pass by in the distance, the peacefulness of where they were, and the destruction of that peace, wherever they went.  
  
"Mint?"  
  
Hearing his name, he looked at her. "Yes, Lady?"  
  
"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Ukyou asked, though she knew his answer already.  
  
"Of course not. It would be an honor."  
  
She smiled wanly. Mint didn't really talk that much, and he was usually soft spoken when he did. Most of the time, he was perfectly content to be quiet, seemingly without any need to make conversation to fill time. Or maybe he was just shy. Then again, she *knew* he was shy, so that definitely played a part in it. Still, they didn't talk much, beyond simple formalities. Maybe he could help her understand something.  
  
"Mint. How do you feel about what we're doing?"  
  
"What we're doing?" He asked, a little defensibly.   
  
"Here. To the Amazons. What we did to those Phoenix people." She clarified. "Do you think its right?"  
  
His young face became sterner, and he looked forward, avoiding her eyes. "We are doing the duty of all Musk. We are following the orders of our Great Dragon Lord."  
  
"But do you think it's right?" She asked again. "Morally right?"  
  
"I don't... follow." Mint replied, after a moment. "What do you mean: is it morally right?"  
  
Ukyou seemed surprised by this answer. It was unusually insightful for such a young man. "Well..." She tried. "Something is morally right when... when you would like others to do it to you."  
  
He thought about that for a little while.   
  
Far off, another thunderclap sounded.  
  
"But Lady Ukyou," he finally said. "If I were doing the wrong thing, and wanted no one to stop me, then would it be morally right to follow my wishes, and let me continue doing wrong?"  
  
"That's why we have justice." Ukyou answered quickly. "Justice makes sure that those who do wrong are stopped."  
  
"Which is also doing wrong? Or is it not?" He asked, softly. She could tell that she was losing him in this, because his voice was dropping off.  
  
"It isn't wrong to stop ...wrong," she decided on saying. Looking at him, Ukyou could see he was trying to digest what she's said into his Musk view on things.  
  
"But... but like I said... who says what is wrong in the first place?" His reply was unusually firm and resolved. "Lady Ukyou, I think I know why you're asking me this. But I am Musk. My Dragon Lord is my justice. He is my law. He says what is wrong and what is right."  
  
"No one san say what is wrong and what is right..." She started to say.  
  
"Then how did your morality develop, if not from men?" Mint frowned, and reached to his side, settling his hand on his sword. "Did not, long ago, some man say that it is wrong to kill... unless under these circumstances or the next? Was that not how it began? So is it for the Musk. Since the days of the First Dynasty, under the rule of The Grandfather, our ways have been like this. The blood of that great ancestor, of Ma'at, flows through the Dragon Lord's veins."  
  
"That doesn't make him infallible." Ukyou warned. "Herb isn't some kind of god."  
  
"No." Mint spoke with a touch of sadness. "But he is our King. Now. That is enough."  
  
Ukyou sighed. Such was the Musk mentality. Of all the Musk she had met, from the wizened Borage, to Herb, to Taro, to even Mint, there was a sort of fatality mindset. They were just extensions of the past, following roles set for them, unable to change. In all their history, no Musk had ever decided not to be Musk, save Saffron. In all the millennia, none had ever become more than pawns and knights of the Royal bloodline. Even if she did stay here, and even if she did marry Herb, what would her son be to those around him? What would Mint's child be, but a slave to her own?  
  
He is our King. That is enough.  
  
'It was enough. Enough for Mint to kill in Herb's name.' Ukyou had thought that they acted without care for consequences, or perhaps out of bloodlust. Certainly, the Musk acted the former, and displayed the latter. Musk warriors would boast about slaying foes, comparing them to stalks of grain, or animals put to slaughter, or with exaggerated human attributes. Obviously, they did care and know that they were killing other human beings. And while Musk certainly possessed a strong bloodlust in battle, they were tempered by an iron discipline.  
  
He is our King. That is enough.  
  
So it was, she realized, how the Musk Way had survived, almost without change, for over ten thousand years. They were built to accept the way of things, kind of like animals, and readily accepted the niches into which they were born. Only rarely, from what she remembered from Borage's lectures, did a Musk Scholar do any real revolutionary work, or suggest any 'radical' change to the existing order. And looking at it all, it really fell on those Scribes and Scholars who advised the King to create change, because the line of the Dragon was just as opposed to it as any other, if not more so.   
  
Four thousand years ago, Jusendo had been built soon after the discovery of Jyusenkyou. The King at the time had been a young Herubu the Fourth, of the Third Dynasty, at the beginning of his reign. Herubu the Fourth had lived and ruled for a thousand years, from what she remembered, and done little else of note in all that time. It all seemed so bleak and depressing, in light of the fast paced modern world she had grown up in.   
  
She sighed softly. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Mint?"  
  
"I'd like to be mated someday." Mint smiled a little at the thought. "No one in our family is, yet, and we have no heirs. In old age, I think I could be a Scholar, like Borage."  
  
And that was it.  
  
"How about going into space?" Ukyou asked, looking up at the sky. The stars were faint; not yet out in full glory.  
  
"Space?" Mint snorted disdainfully. "Why would I want to be in space?"  
  
"To see new things! To explore!" She noticed that he was looking at her quizzically. There was one phrase he'd understand: "For glory."  
  
"I don't see what's so glorious about going into space." Mint shrugged. Shaking her head sadly, she patted him on the shoulder.   
  
"Maybe you'll change your mind someday."  
  
"Maybe." Mint nervously took her hand off his shoulder, forcing away the blush on his cheeks. He was the Dragon Lord's chosen mate - there was really nothing to be gained by arguing with her, even if Mint did secretly like the sound of her voice.   
  
Finally, the two of them came to the green and blue tent at the center of the camp, from which all others radiated. Walking inside, Ukyou looked around, expecting to see Herb, but finding only empty space and their normal traveling accoutrements. It was hardly extravagant, beyond its size, and even then only compared to the Spartan living conditions of the other Musk. Herb traveled lightly, far more lightly than he had her do. The lights were on inside the tent, and their stands put up and in place, but no one was present. Something else seemed to be missing, too: that weird staff Herb had picked up from the raid on Phoenix Mountain.  
  
"Now where'd that caped jackass run off to?" She fussed, obviously annoyed, though she didn't quite know why. How many weeks ago had it been since she simply wanted to escape and go home?  
  
Mint stepped out of the tent, and took a careful look around. Finally, he pointed to a hill in the distance, where a small silhouette stood against the backdrop of the Southern Baiyankara Mountains. Ukyou couldn't quite see him as well as her Musk bodyguard, however. "Are you sure that's him?"  
  
"Yep." Mint narrowed his eyes.   
  
"I wonder why he's way out there..."  
  
Another thunderclap shook the air.  
  
"Ah." Mint smirked. "He's practicing."  
  
***  
  
The clap of thunder was little more than a faint whisper miles to the south, near the ruin of Soryn Pass. There, under the shadow of spires of wood, a prostrate figure groaned, and started to stir. Shampoo had felt better, to tell the truth, and as she regained consciousness, a flood of memories returned to her. She had been fighting... fighting Mousse...  
  
Yes. Mousse had been caught breaking into the Library in the Joketsuzoku village. He had been selling Amazon secrets to the Musk, betraying them to their ancient enemy. Then he had fled, and Shampoo had been recalled from Japan to find and kill him for his crimes. The marriage laws had been suspended, and all Amazons brought back home in preparation for war. Out of all the Amazons Nation, Shampoo was the only one with the expertise to deal with Mousse. Though they had avoided saying it, she was the only one who could really "deal" with Mousse when she found him.  
  
Yet...  
  
She hadn't beaten him. Anger and humiliation burned deep inside her at the realization. Growing up, she had never thought much of Mousse, beyond his annoying habit of shirking his station as an Amazon male. Then he had left to train under a wandering master in the Dark Art of Hidden Weapons, and he had returned emboldened and with enough power to back up his former intentions. Still, despite his martial prowess, he had never raised arms against his Amazon sisters - in that respect, at least, his upbringing had been in line with the norm.   
  
But she had never really, seriously, thought that he had surpassed her. She was Shampoo, great granddaughter of the Matriarch head of the Council, of one of the favored bloodlines! She was the greatest warrior of her generation! Yet, had Mousse not been able to fight girl-type Ranma where she herself would have been beaten easily? When Ryouga trained with them - Mousse, Shampoo and Ukyou - hadn't he told them that he regarded Mousse as his most serious opponent?  
  
Closing her eyes, she could see him fight. She had not held back even a fraction, and yet he had defied her, and lived! They had danced amid the ruins of the beached airship on the battlefield of Soryn, trading blows and strikes. Deerhorn Knives, Clawed gauntlets, throwing stars, swords, fists and feet and strength and fury, the two Amazons, male and female, had given it their all. Shampoo had fought for the Council, for her people, and for her honor. Why Mousse had fought, why Mousse had betrayed them, she did not know.   
  
'You're the future of the Amazons... Spoiled! Blind! Arrogant! ... Doomed!'  
  
"Damn... you Mousse." Shampoo shook her head and heard her neck crack and protest. What had happened? She and Mousse had fallen into... bones... skeletons of warriors. This was Soryn Pass. The Musk Legion and Phoenix Tribe had fought here over twenty years ago. The Amazons had sent aid, but it hadn't arrived until after the battle was over. She and Mousse had fallen through to this lower level in the beached ship, and then something had knocked them out.  
  
Struggling to move, Shampoo quickly realized she wasn't getting anywhere. Tilting her head to look down, she saw thick brown-green ropes around her torso, arms and knees, pinning her in place. Channeling Ki desperately, she tried to tear through the bonds, to little effect. They only seemed to constrict even more tightly. Then, hauntingly familiar laughter came from behind, along with the sound of steps.  
  
"Who dares?!" Shampoo roared, rocking back and forth to roll herself over. "Who dares do this to a..."  
  
Shampoo never finished her sentence. Her muscles spasmed, and voice seized up, cutting off any rational discourse. Undisguised laughter from above distantly registered in her mind, but only sunk in after the shock faded, and the world creased spinning. Looking up, she saw a face, then double.  
  
"Shan Pu." One of them said, smiling. "You look like you've seen better days, over."  
  
"It seems our new weapon works much better in this form than as a cage." The other faded out a bit as it spoke. Then, blinking a few times, Shampoo realized it was those twins she'd been given as escort: Cherry and Chain. One was crouched down over her, and the other was standing up, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
"What are you fools doing?!" Shampoo tried to scream, but her voice was still hoarse. "The Amazon Council will have your heads for this!"  
  
"Oh?" The girl who was standing smirked. "You don't say? Don't you remember us, Shan Pu?"  
  
The Amazon narrowed her eyes.   
  
"I guess not, over." The crouched girl stood up, and mirrored her sister, minus the cocky smile. The other one shook her head.  
  
"Maybe this will help your memory. 'Wind Direction okay!'"  
  
Shampoo's eyes widened. "You!"  
  
"And me." The other girl said, plainly. "Lin Ku."  
  
"And Pin Ku." The cocky one laughed. "Chain and Cherry were just aliases. Honestly, I'm surprised you forgot about us so quickly. But it has been about eight years or so, hasn't it? Since the last time you beat us up, that is."  
  
Pink stomped her foot on something, and Shampoo felt the binds around her constrict, before exploding in pain. Whether it was poison, or electricity, or some combination of the two, Shampoo neither knew nor cared. Then, with a shutter of tortured muscle and sinew, the sensation and pain were gone.  
  
"Don't worry, Shan Pu." Pink assured her, voice totally confident. "We won't kill you. Not like this. We're just going to have a little payback for the pain you caused. Then we'll toss what's left of you off the cliff. It'll look like an accident, in case anyone cares to check, and we can blame it on that traitor, Mu Tzu."  
  
Shampoo groaned. "Mu Tzu..."  
  
"He's right here." Pink stepped to the side, and motioned to another body on the ground, partially obscured by darkness. "He'll die too, of course."  
  
"Pin..." Link seemed to caution her sister.  
  
"But we have no plans to torture him, if that concerns you." Pink 'hmfed.' "But he just can't be allowed to wander around."  
  
"Pin Ku. Lin Ku." Shampoo gulped and licked dry lips. "Listen. You don't have to do this. At least not now..."  
  
"Not now?" Pink rolled her eyes. "Why not? I think now is the perfect time, over!"  
  
"Bu... aaaARGHH!!" Shampoo gritted her teeth at the assault. It seemed to drag on, unending, unceasing, before Pink raised her foot off the base of the plant, and its tendrils' power died down. This gave some respite for the proud Amazon, though Shampoo knew it was fleeting. Pink was enjoying this too much to not do it again. She could tell by the gleam in the other girl's eyes, if nothing else.  
  
"Lin Ku?" Pink invited her twin sister to have a turn. Shampoo braced herself, and after a few tense seconds the pain ripped into her body for a fourth time, though not nearly as long.  
  
"Shampoo." Link spoke up, her words slow and precise. "You'll be sorry you ever met us. Over."  
  
Pink let out a sharp laugh. "That's an understatement, over!"  
  
"Let me tell you something else..." Pink leaned over, dark black eyes mirthful. "Your Great Grandmother...Khu Lon..."  
  
"Great... great grandmother..." Shampoo squeezed her eyes shut, overcome by shame. How could this be happening? What would her Great grandmother think?   
  
"She'll be joining you in the afterlife, soon." Pink's voice haunted her, brought tears to her eyes. "The Musk Prince... if he doesn't tear her heart out... we will. Soon, the Council of Elders, the Matriarchy, the Amazons Sisterhoods..." Shampoo could also hear Pink smirking. "They'll all be dead, Shampoo! They'll ALL be dead!"  
  
"Better dead than a Musk concubine!" Shampoo snapped, shaking tears from her face.   
  
Pink gave a pitying look, and stood up again, looking to her sister. "She really has no clue, does she, over?"  
  
Link shook her head. "No. None at all."  
  
"Well!" Pink clapped her hands together excitedly and looked down at Shampoo again. "I'm going to pick out my very best Mandragora spores for later. A little sprinkle, and we'll wait a few days to see how it grows. But I have a feeling, Shan Pu, that you'll make wonderful fertilizer."  
  
Pink winked, and left, Link following right behind like a second shadow. Alone, again, Shampoo felt the weight of Pink's words burn into her mind. High above and around, dark spires of broken wood, the grave markers of uncounted warriors and peasants, cast long terrible shadows. Far off, the scurrying of tiny feet, rats, made her skin crawl. Giving one last futile struggle against the living cords binding her, Shampoo felt something coming up, like vomit, but dry.  
  
Unable to hold back the sob, a gasp of total despair and hopelessness, Shampoo bit her lip and tried to fight back the tears and noise. She was an Amazon! She was stronger than this! She was... was...  
  
"Oh... oh gods..." Burying her forehead in the ground, Shampoo lost this fight, just like all the others it seemed she'd ever been in, and cried. Crystal tear after tear fell from her face, into the dry, dirt encrusted ground; down her cheeks, stinging and burning away her pride. How long she was like this, Shampoo didn't know - didn't care.   
  
"Shan..."   
  
Shampoo barely heard her name.  
  
"Shan... Pu..."   
  
Blinking, she turned her head to the side, nose catching dirt on the tip. "M... Mu Tzu?"  
  
"Hey. Shan." Mousse narrowed his eyes slightly from where he lay, obviously trying to find her. His glasses were gone, and she could see his eyes reflecting some light from an unknown source. Maybe, she wondered, it was his soul shining through. In his hair, two mashed up flowers seemed oddly out of place. He smiled, wanly, and with great effort inched towards her. He was just as tightly bound as she, if not more so, but managed the task in near silence, working his way towards her.  
  
"Mu Tzu..." Shampoo watched him with a mixture of sadness and hope. "Stupid Mu Tzu..."  
  
"I'm glad..." He inched a little closer, and then stopped, breathing a little heavily. "I'm glad you think so highly of me." Seeing no response from her, he continued, glibly. "It's a shame being exiled from the Tribe isn't the same as being an Outsider. Maybe then you'd have to marry me, too."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Thinking about it... sharing you with Ranma wouldn't be so bad. His girl form's easy on the eyes."  
  
This, finally, seemed to do the trick, and Shampoo shook her head weakly, a tiny smile appearing where there hadn't been a trace of one before. "You're too stupid for words, Mu Tzu."  
  
"So..." Mousse's mood sobered more than a little. "I take it those two companions of yours..."  
  
"Traitors..." Shampoo hissed the word like a curse. "Pin Ku and Lin Ku..."  
  
"Pin Ku and Lin Ku?" Mousse was quite for a few seconds. "Ah... Them. Well, it seems as if someone's been holding a grudge for a long time. Three someone's really, since I'm sure that if you knew who they were you'd beat them into the ground on sight."  
  
Shampoo gave him a sharp look. Mousse had never been one to criticize her before. But he had changed, not just since returning to China, but months before. When he started to work closely with Ukyou. This new Mousse, however, was a very different animal from the one she knew. In a way, Shampoo wasn't quite sure how to deal with him, outside of a mortal one-on-one death match, of course.   
  
"I... suppose I would have." She finally admitted. He was right about it, and there was little point getting angry at this point. "Can you escape?"  
  
"I've been trying to since I woke up."  
  
Shampoo felt suddenly ashamed. "When... when was that?"  
  
"I heard you crying, Shan Pu." He looked at her, but not with pity. Concern.   
  
Concern for her.  
  
"Mu Tzu." She was about to argue, half heartedly, before realizing the futility of it. "Mu Tzu. I can't get up."  
  
"Me either." He admitted, and pursed his lips. "These bonds... they're too tight. Too strong. Like nothing I've ever been in before."  
  
Shampoo sighed. "Maybe... Tso Pu will..."  
  
"Tso Pu?" Mousse growled. "Don't expect any help from her! She's the one who set you up!"  
  
"What?" Shampoo's eyes lit up, finally, with anger. "Tso Pu? Impossible!"  
  
Mousse's eyes were half lidded, as if he was unsurprised by her outburst. "Yeah? I suppose its coincidence that you're traveling with two of your mortal enemies? And that they happen to strike only after you found me?"  
  
"I... They called themselves Cherry and Chain. I don't think anyone knew who they were," Shampoo said it, but hardly believed it. Her older sister had suggested and recommended Pink and Link (under their aliases) assist her in tracking down Mousse. Really: how much had Soap known? How much did Mousse know?  
  
"Uh huh. Lemme spell it out for you." Mousse's tone was horribly condescending. "Tso Pu sent you out here to die, Shan. Just like she branded me a traitor to cover up for herself."  
  
"No." Shampoo shook her head. "No...That's..."  
  
"Tso Pu was the one raiding the Amazon Village Library... I did break in," Mousse admitted, voice sincere. "But when I looked around, I discovered things were missing. Information on Musk strongholds and territory."  
  
"Why break in, in the first place?"  
  
"Ok. Let me start from the beginning." Mousse sighed and started to wearily speak, "After Ukyou and I won that Hot Springs race back in Japan, we decided to go to Jyusenkyou and bring back cures for everyone. Ukyou in particular wanted to bury her grudge with Ranma, and even I felt a little sorry for him. Ryouga, we both consider a good friend, and you... well, Ukyou always thought of you as a friend. And seeing you cursed was never one of my little joys in life, to say the least. Old man Saotome... well, we were thinking about leaving him a panda, but decided that even he deserved a break."  
  
"So we went to Jyusenkyou." He continued, getting back to the point. "Took the plane to Hong Kong, and from there to China - first by train to Xining, then the rest of the way we went by bus, and then finally on foot, into the Baiyankara Range. Things were going perfectly until we found Jyusenkyou."  
  
"Ukyou wasn't cursed, was she?" Shampoo was actually surprised by her concern. She'd blamed what she's heard of Mousse's betrayal on Ukyou, who Cologne had suspected of siding with the Musk. It felt like a double betrayal, really, because Shampoo actually liked the spatula girl and thought the feeling was mutual.  
  
"No. But we did bump into Prince Herb and the Jyusenkyou Guide." Mousse frowned deeply. "The bastard hit me with a Ki attack, knocked me half way across the valley, and ran off with Ukyou. Which brings us to the near present. I returned to the village and broke into the Elder's Library to find out where the Musk Strongholds were. Everyone knows Musk territory is up in the northern expanse of the Baiyankara range, around Mount Kensai, but without a map it'd take months of wandering and a whole lot of luck to find out where Ukyou's being held."  
  
"I also ran into Tso Pu around that time, because she'd been lurking around Jyusenkyou along with Mir Ru and Plun Gu. After breaking into the Library, I ran into her again, and in between exchanging blows, we had a little talk. She knew that the scrolls were missing, and she set me up to take the fall. Of course I ran for it - who'd believe me, of all males, over everyone's favorite Amazon: Tso Pu?"  
  
"It makes no sense." Shampoo turned away from him, and looked up at the dark sky of wood above. "Why would Tso Pu do such a thing?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Mousse asked. "Hasn't it been obvious since we were children? Even I could see that Tso Pu hated that you, her younger sister, had been picked over her for Khu Lon's special training. Tso Pu always had to be in charge, in command... always had to be the hero and the one everyone looked up to. She still does! She's working with the Musk, working FOR the Musk, because she wants to destroy the Council of Elders!"  
  
Shampoo weakly denied it. "No... no, you can't know that..."  
  
"I do." Though he didn't say exactly how. He owed the Guide a great deal, and wasn't about to expose the fact that the older man had sheltered and helped Mousse out so long as Pink or Link might be listening. "Shan Pu, she wants to destroy the Council of Elders because she wants to take over. She wants to be Queen, I'm sure of it."  
  
"There hasn't been an Amazon Queen..."  
  
"In over two thousand years. Not since the Forgotten King was murdered. The King whose name was erased by the Council, but whose legacy, whose blood, survives in you, Shan Pu. You, Khu Lon, and Tso Pu. Only one of you three would have the proven lineage to take the title."  
  
"But... to align with the Musk..."  
  
"She struck some kind of deal. I can't say I blame her." Mousse smirked a little himself. "Tso Pu was never really happy with the way things were. To be blunt, the Amazons are going to lose this war anyway. Herb wants revenge... revenge because the Council of Amazon Elders betrayed his father, here, at Soryn. He won't stop, and he won't be satisfied, until they lie broken at his feet. You must know that the Musk and their Allies have already struck the Phoenix and crippled them badly, plunging them into civil war. That was just the set up, just the excuse, for his campaign against the Amazons and the Council."  
  
"Oh, they'll hurt the Musk alright." Mousse continued quickly. "Once the Amazons mobilize and organize a real resistance, they'll bloody his nose. But Herb won't let that stop him. The Musk have been fighting the Phoenix for three generations. The Amazons haven't fought any real battles in almost three hundred years. Tso Pu knows this, as well, if not better, than I do. She probably figures, rather correctly actually, that the only way to save the Amazons is to reform their ways, and to give Herb what he really wants, the death of the Amazon Elders."  
  
"You're taking her side in this?" Shampoo sounded indignant.  
  
"In a way." Mousse scowled. "In a way, I want to see the Council pay for enforcing a status quo that keeps my brothers and kin in a state of bondage and servitude. I want to see an end to the double standard where strong outsider males are rewarded and native ones punished. I want the men and boys of the Amazon lands to be free to be what they want, do what they want... and leave if they want! Yeah, Shan... yeah, I do sympathize, and I do understand what Tso Pu is trying to do. I've put a lot of thought into it."  
  
"...But!" He added, sharply. "I don't condone her methods... I can't. I'd like to believe there's a better approach, a kinder solution... Tso Pu was willing to let her own sister die to achieve power. Not to mention me. I can't help but wonder how far she's willing to go, who else she's willing to sacrifice, and what kind of Queen she'd be if she succeeded. I can't help but think she wouldn't be one I'd like to live under."  
  
Shampoo grimaced and let the side of her face fall to the ground dejectedly. "What does it matter, Mu Tzu? We won't live to see any of it."  
  
"Don't say that, Shan." Mousse inched a little closer. "Don't give up hope. We will get out of here somehow. And then..."  
  
"And then?" She asked.  
  
"And then... I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."  
  
Shampoo big sweated, which felt especially weird when in a horizontal position. "Stupid Mu Tzu."  
  
"What do ya' say, Shan Pu? Are we going to get out of here?"  
  
She looked up at him, into his eyes. That spark was still there, that light, that part of him she's never seen, or never cared to see, before. After a few seconds, she slowly smiled. "Yeah. We'll get out of here. And we'll have a rematch... cause I still think I could beat you."  
  
He smiled back, and settled his head forward a bit. "It *was* a great fight."  
  
"The best." Shampoo did the same. This close, she could feel his breath. Blinking, she licked her lips, realizing they were still dry.   
  
"Shan Pu...?" He asked, as if sensing something in her.  
  
"I'll..." She leaned in a little closer. He gulped, clearing his throat, lips parting just a fraction.   
  
"I'll kick your ass... Mu Tzu..."  
  
And then, Shampoo leaned in and her lips met his. Mousse struggled against the cords around his body as the Amazon girl's kiss deepened. Overwhelmed, he felt himself respond with panic instead of bliss - this was far from how he'd imagined things ever developing. She was aggressive, he was confused, and she didn't seem to care. Finally, Shampoo's lips left his own, leaving Mousse breathless.   
  
"S... sha.... sh..." He mumbled, lips tingling and slow to respond to his mental commands.   
  
"Mu Tzu." She cut him off, her voice, for once, soft. "Tell me you still love me."  
  
'After all you've done to me?' His mind raced. 'After all these years of rejection? After... after I thought I'd started to get over you? After finally thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could start over? How could you ask that?'  
  
'You really love her, don't you?' Ukyou had asked, months ago, though now, it seemed like forever.  
  
'I... I...' He had stopped, surprised by his hesitation. He did love Shampoo, didn't he? He'd loved her ever since they were children, when no one else was interested in doing much with a male who wanted to fight, and train. Even then, he'd know it was love, right? They'd grown up together, but they'd never grown closer, together, in all that time.  
  
Never.  
  
'Yeah, I love her,' he had finally said, matter-of-factly. Why: because he hadn't wanted to talk about it. He hadn't wanted to think about it. He still didn't. What did he really love about her? Was it her warrior spirit? Her stubborn persistence? Her beauty (though with his eyesight, most people looked like blurs)?   
  
"Shan Pu..." He began to say, and looked into her eyes. He knew then what she wanted to hear, and what he had to say. "In a way I don't think you'll ever understand... I will always love and treasure you..."  
  
"I want to live, Mu Tzu." She blinked, tears again in her eyes. "I can't die here."  
  
"You won't." He hoped his voice sounded surer and more confident than his thoughts. "I promise."  
  
Leaning towards each other, their foreheads touched gently, human contact keeping them both grounded in sanity, reality, and the chance of freedom. As Shampoo drifted off to sleep, Mousse steeled his thoughts. He wasn't ready to die here, either, and he'd wasted enough time running to the hills and hiding from Amazon retribution. The time for action was fast approaching, when words and thoughts would mean far less than deeds.  
  
It was time to take a stand, and stick with it.  
  
***  
  
The shadow of the great Mount Kensai cast long shadows over all of northern Baiyankara, more so now, it seemed, than in the past. Tallest and widest of all the peaks in that Range, its height was only approached by Mount Phoenix to the south, and even then not nearly in the girth of its base. In its western extension the surviving heart of Musk power was sheltered: the hidden veil of Sach Khandu, ancestral home of the seventh, eighth, and eleventh Dynasties. Just past its chill northern slopes lay those sparse and hard lands and people that have paid tribute to the Musk, amid the rocks and mountains, since the time of their settling.   
  
And in its southern shade, stretching long and broad, Mt. Kensai watched over the lowlands that ran though the region, and briefly split the Baiyankara range. In mid summer, as was the present season, Kensai's eternally snow capped peak stood in stark contrast to its mottled summit, and the now-flowering lands that existed in its view. In this place, a lone figure walked through the shadow of the night, hooded and caped in black.   
  
Beneath his feet, wildflowers were crushed.  
  
Over hill and dale he walked, with great speed and inhuman stamina, until at least, he came to a small farmhouse, long deserted. The home itself was minimal and ramshackle, its fields left fallow and untamed. Pushing aside the door without hesitation, the cloaked figure stepped inside. No sooner had he done so, however, than he was forced into sudden and spectacular motion. Stepping to the side as sharpened steel sliced through the sir, then once more at the blade's lunge became a swipe, the cloaked man replied equally, a weapon of his own suddenly in hand. With apparent ease, and a feminine yelp from his target, he knocked aside his attacker's spear, and took down her legs, sending her to the ground.  
  
"Ah-hahah." Sumac chuckled deeply, his rich bass voice reverberating off the walls of the small building. "Still as slow and sloppy as the day we met, eh, little mouse?"  
  
In the low light, the gleaming metal edge of Sumac's pudao flashed only twice. Once when his weapon had been drawn, and once when it came to a stop, less than an inch from his prone target's throat. On the dusty ground, the other figure caught her breath, inhaling sharply and not moving.  
  
"Then again... I'd expect little more from a Joketsuzoku whore."  
  
"Musk Pig..."  
  
"That's no way to talk to your husband, wife." Sumac smirked, and his weapon flipped around and away. Holding out his hand, Soap seemed to hesitate a moment before taking it, and letting him help her up. Faking calm, she brushed the dust off her traveling cloak.  
  
"Still alive and unscarred I see." She frowned. "Pity."  
  
Sumac laughed again, heartily. "Wouldn't you weep for me, woman, if I did die?"  
  
"If I cried, it would be because I need you." She snorted dismissively. "Not because I want you."  
  
"Ho ho! You've still got some backbone!" Sumac's right hand snapped out like a snake and roughly cupped her chin, and his large fingers easily reached to her ears. "Good. 'Cause I'm in the mood for some real fun tonight."  
  
"Business first... Husband." Soap said through clenched teeth.  
  
Sumac narrowed his eyes just enough to silently warn, before smiling and letting go. "Of course."  
  
"Here." She reached into her cloak, and took out a scroll. Unrolling it and laying it on a ramshackle wooden table, she waited for Sumac to set up a light for them to see by, in the form of a small oil lantern. He turned then to the unfurled paper, and saw a map of the region in detail. Well marked out were both Musk strongholds from the past, and Joketsuzoku camps and fortifications.  
  
"Well?" she asked, leaving it to him to make the first move.  
  
"Herb's taken Xaodin in the south. He'll be passing through the Seven Gates in a few days." Sumac pointed to the area just north of Jyusenkyou, past three well-defined and named mountains, and just west of the northernmost one. The three were part of the so-called Seven Mountains, or Seven Gates, that sheltered Jyusenkyou from all approaches except the southeast, leading all the way south to Mount Phoenix and Jusendo.   
  
"I know about that." Soap nodded. "He killed Elder Lai Zhol. Do you know which gate he will take?"  
  
"You'd think he'd take Soryn. If only for the irony." Sumac then point to the well-marked Soryn Pass southwest of Xaodin. "But you'd be wrong. I know for a fact he's going to take the shortest route: the Seventh Gate, here in the southern slope of the Northpass."  
  
"He'll be marching single file for weeks..."  
  
"Except for the Seven Lucky Gods." Sumac interrupted. "Herb already ordered Bishamonten and Kirin to pull back from the southern line against the Phoenix, who have their hands full now fighting each other, to his area. He'll cross the Seventh Gate with his lightest and fastest infantry, while the assault troops and baggage train go by airship. Herb will be through the mountains in three days, leaving his medium troops in a defensive position."  
  
"With the Amazons consolidating their forces around here..." Sumac pointed to east and northeast of Xaodin, close to where they were meeting, in the shadow of Mt. Kensai. "To deal with my army, Herb will sneak around, and strike at the defenseless underbelly of the Amazons before they can finish any defensive preparations. He'll have nothing but open land and a few tiny hamlets to march through, before they're at the gates of the Amazon village itself."  
  
"The Elders assumed he'd be splitting his forces." Soap shook her head. "But they didn't plan for the airship. I was told to expect Herb to send half his army through the pass to draw attention from the main push in the north."  
  
"Except Herb doesn't care about gaining territory or seizing villages." Sumac's voice seemed rather approving. "This is about revenge. Besides: cut off the head of the snake, and the rest will die. Destroy the Amazon village, and all the neighboring areas will be thrown into chaos and submit... which is where you come in."  
  
"Except I'd prefer if the Amazon village was not destroyed. Only the corrupt Council of Elders." Soap huffed. "This isn't good. I'm too far north to get involved."  
  
"Your turn, little mouse." Sumac motioned to the map.  
  
She scowled, but complied, pointing to a town just to the east. "My forces are stationed here, but the bulk of Amazon resources here are either defensive, or mustering here, further to the south, for a counterattack."  
  
"Ah." Sumac's eyebrows went up at that news. He took off his hood, and she could see that he still shaved his head, except for a long horsetail of exotic blue hair. "Now things are getting interesting. Go on."  
  
Soap took off her own hood and let her long teal hair down from the bun it'd been in. She didn't miss Sumac taking his eyes off the map to watch her, and she definitely didn't misdiagnose the look of hunger in his gaze. She realized with depressed certainty that he wouldn't be denied tonight. Sighing, she went back to the map.  
  
"Most of the Elders are meeting here in two days." She pointed again to the area a fair ways east of Xaodin. "Along with the most of the Amazon Legion, border forces from the far east, and conscripted women from every nearby town and village. Their goal is to retake Amazon lands and prevent any further Musk advance, so if Herb is moving quickly through the Seventh Gate, they'll move to retake Xaodin and threaten your southern flank and supply routes."  
  
"I'll have to draw them out first, then." Sumac paused. "You said most of the Elders. Which ones are staying behind? And how big a force are we talking about here?"  
  
"Po Shin the Elder is in the Phoenix lands, evaluating the situation there for the Council. The ranking Matriarch, Elder Khu Lon, also left recently. She comes and goes as she pleases, but I suspect she's either heading to Japan to get help - Shampoo met and supposedly befriended numerous powerful Japanese martial artists on her trip there - or there is some other pressing business in the east. Oui Ru is still overseeing things from the Amazon village."  
  
"Why? It seems foolish to keep Khu Lon and Oui Ru where they are. Those are the two Elders Herb wants to kill the most."  
  
"They don't want to draw him out or goad him into an attack. At least not yet. Remember, Xaodin was a trap for the Musk Prince, and we both know how that went."  
  
Sumac shrugged. "Continue."  
  
"Regardless, the force the Council of Elders has called to arms is impressive. Virtually every able bodied Amazon woman has been called up from the south, and while I know you don't have much respect for their abilities..." She paused and Sumac dryly spat is undisguised disdain. "They are well trained, well motivated, and most are willing to follow the Council even if it means death. The conscripted women from nearby villages are, naturally, not nearly as effective, but probably fear the Council of Elders almost as much as the Musk, and won't run until things really get hairy. The supply train is mostly male laborers. I'd expect them to be overjoyed at your approach, provided your boys show restraint and don't run them down with the women."  
  
Sumac barked out a laugh at that.   
  
"Number wise... the expected totals are somewhere around a two thousand cavalry, all Amazon horse archers and light lancers. There'll also be roughly a thousand conscript women, well armed with bow and sword in equal number, mildly well trained and motivated, and a thousand spear wielding fodder to shore up the flanks, given normal Amazon doctrine of punching through the center and flanking-from-within. Expect about five hundred real martial artists to be escorting the Council of Elders, and half that number again in surprise troops: probably poison and fire-users. The Elders aren't fond of firearms so don't expect any, but then again neither are the Musk."  
  
Sumac smiled knowingly. "The purpose of war, and battle, is to resolve conflict and establish dominance. Dominance of people over other people, ideals over other ideals, religions over other religions... the purpose is the same. Dominance, and proof of superiority. That can only be resolved through true combat, physical combat, decided by skill and strength and honor and courage. Any true warrior would sooner hold a good three feet of steel than some western machine gun."  
  
Soap smiled coyly. "I seem to recall more than a few fine Musk warriors gunned down in the last Phoenix War. I also recall hearing of the last King Herb using artillery as well..."  
  
"A true warrior..." Sumac smiled more broadly, displaying sharp canines, longer than any human's, the legacy of his lupine ancestry. "Also keeps his options open."  
  
"And you, dear husband," she spat out the word. "Have you trained your guns, yet?"  
  
"Prince Herb believes our larger artillery pieces would only slow the advance. I agree with his decision. The larger pieces are rather cumbersome, and not entirely necessary." He scratched his chin and looked away. "The smaller ones, however, suit my purposes..."  
  
"So what are you planning?" She asked, face impartial.  
  
"Hmm..." Sumac's hand left his chin and floated over the map slowly, as if trying to feel out some course of action. Finally, after a few seconds, his pointed down to a spot between Mount Kensai and the area where the Amazons were gathering. "Here."  
  
"That's an Amazon Fort. Mai Ska Ra." Soap raised an eyebrow at his choice. "Named after a former Matriarch."  
  
"Yes. But look: it guards the main road between the northeast and northwest territories, that forks down, south, all the way to the Amazon Village itself." Sumac explained. "Not only does the main road connecting those villages to the Amazon heartland make it a prime target, the reason they built the fort in the first place, but the southern portion of this road is the main means of supply for the village where the Amazons are gathering their forces. It would also be the only means of retreating in good order should their offensive fail. If I advance my Army and threaten the fort, the Elders will, I have no doubt, recognize the threat. They won't be able to make any offensive moves, anywhere, without leaving an avenue open for retreat and re-supply."  
  
Soap saw it now. "They'll have to attack, to either defend or re-take Mai Ska Ra."   
  
"Drawing them in for the kill." Sumac started to laugh, low in his throat. Soap watched him with more than a little fear. This Musk was a man who would kill without hesitation, torture without pause, and enjoy every moment of it. She hated him, but knew that, at least for now, she and he were, indeed, bound as tightly as husband and wife.   
  
"You'll be outnumbered. Badly." She reminded him.  
  
"Clove's forces are still being held in reserve to the north. He's awaiting the order to move south in case of any attack, while I hold my position. However, if he were to move his heavy troops south now, in all due haste, he could shore up my flank, just as the battle is joined. My men are the best... their zeal for combat, their skill in maneuver and attack unmatched... we'll be able to handle the Amazons until Clove's advance troops come to assist. Especially if we take the fort and hold it for ourselves."  
  
"Imagine it." He continued, eyes sparkling. "A thousand Musk warriors, decked in heavy assault armor, charging down at almost fifty kilometers per hour ... Unstoppable as the sea, Invincible as the mountains... Beautiful. We'll trample them into nothing... nothing but a bloody smear..."  
  
Soap looked down at the map and frowned. "So long as the Elders themselves are killed, you can do as you please with their defenders. If the teeth and claws of the Amazon people must be sacrificed to save the heart and soul, so be it."  
  
"Oh, they will be." Sumac took in a deep breath, excited by the prospect. "I promise you that. This battle will make you Queen, and me, King! Once, of course, the Amazons submit to the Musk, and Prince Herb's vengeance has been meted out in full. All you have to do is play the hero. Take your raiders to the general area, put up a token fight, and then withdraw in the face of superior numbers. If you ride hard, you can make it to the Amazon village just as Herb breaks through into the area. Let the diehards defend the village itself, while your raiders take to the countryside. When it burns, and the Council is no more, you should be more than able to seize power."  
  
Hearing him, Soap got the feeling he was hiding something from her, some element of his ambition that went unsaid. However, she knew better than to ask. She didn't trust him anyway - if he was up to something, only she would be able to figure it out, and hopefully, find some countermeasure. As it was, she was already contemplating measures to deal with the future Amazon King most finally.  
  
"Now..." Sumac's tone changed; became more husky, and Soap felt his hands on her, strong and unbreakable in their embrace. "Take off your clothes, little mouse. Your husband wants something to remember you by..."  
  
Eyes closed, Soap slowly complied.  
  
For some part must always be sacrificed.  
  
So that the rest may live to avenge it. 


	15. Learning Curve part 30

Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. A few others are mine. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.  
  
"Learning Curve"  
  
Part XXX  
  
by: J. Wagner  
  
"He's ready."  
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
Inside the van, Pearl Adams let out a deep sigh, while his associates got their living weapon ready. Over the last few weeks, he'd truly become dissatisfied with what his assignment had grown into. He'd been forced to decide between two situations both of which were doomed to leave a lot of corpses in their wake, and while Adams had taken more than a few lives of his own in the course of his career, he had tried to keep innocents from being among them.  
  
Growing up in the outback, he'd become a mercenary on what was literally a lark. Good with a gun, and physically hardy, as a boy he'd been born with a survivalist streak that had gotten him in trouble more than a few times. Happier tracking emu and hunting rogue dingo, he'd dropped out early and made money taking odd jobs as a ranch hand and, later, amateur boxer. When he'd gotten the money, he moved to America for a while, and found out that money could be made through less scrupulous methods.  
  
Back in Australia, Adams had rediscovered money problems nipping at his heels, and after the death of his old man, took a few tours of duty. It was all-good for the most part. He'd made up for lost time, gotten an education, and became an officer. But profitable...? It wasn't that he spent money unwisely; it was just that there wasn't much to begin with. Two divorces hadn't helped either. After a few years, he'd decided to go independent and break out on his own. He'd done some business in South America, earned a bit of a name, and then he'd been called out to Borneo to track a man down.  
  
That had been his first contract with the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society.   
  
Hell, he hadn't even known what 'Jyusenkyou' was. Their money was good, very good, and just as importantly, their missions were always interesting. He'd spent more than a little time there, working for them. The Society was obviously looking for something on the island, but as far as he knew they never found it. His good work, however, had gotten him a good reputation in the Society, and they'd brought him to China to help them out there.  
  
Trippy shit.  
  
Over the last year, Pearl Adams had seen things his old rummy of a father never could've imagined. Or maybe he did when he got piss-drunk and needed his gun to fall asleep. Half-men half-animals, people who can shatter stone with their fingers, energy blasts like out of some screwed up comic book... it all seemed insane, really. But... but it was damn real.   
  
Damn real.  
  
"Ryu?" Yosho asked, voice amiable.  
  
The boy's voice was full of eagerness. "Yes?"  
  
"How do you feel Ryu?"  
  
"Better than ever before." The boy with the white bandanna smiled. "I feel invincible!"  
  
"Good." Yosho paused for a second to check Ryu's neck, and then, seemingly satisfied, patted the boy on the shoulder. "You know what to do, right?"  
  
"Find them, lure them." No hesitation in Ryu's response. "Kill them."  
  
Adams listened, and frowned. He'd been ordered to Japan to identify a handful of targets from the JPS Registry: Saotome Ranma, Saotome Genma, and Hibiki Ryouga. They'd given him a team of men, and asked for a detailed analysis of the three: strength projections, Speed category, lists of fighting techniques 'conventional and unconventional,' medical records, living arrangements, and a number of other things. At the same time, he and other cells had gone about identifying and cataloguing other Japanese martial artists and unusual phenomenon. It'd been quite fascinating work, actually, but he never asked why the Society wanted the info... and to tell the truth, he hadn't really cared.  
  
Then, Bishop had told him to kill them.  
  
Or at least the two boys. The more detailed written orders he'd been given were to ensure the elimination, past a given time, of the two primary targets. Apparently, someone is the Society, possibly Bishop himself, had deemed it likely that while the two young men might get involved in Society business, the older Saotome man would not. A bomb had seemed like the best plan of action, but...  
  
Pearl closed his eyes and thought of Kasumi. This had always been his problem. Women! But Kasumi was different from the others. Her smile filled him with a secret joy he had to hide from his compatriots, and the deception he was using on her caused him pain - made him feel lower than the lowest slug in a garden of red roses. She was the linchpin of an odd family, but it was a family none-the-less. A happy, growing family. How could he let all that disappear in a cloud of fire and metal?  
  
No.  
  
Kasumi would not die. Nor would her sisters and father, not if he had another option available. And now, that option was ready to be unleashed. Despite not being a martial artist himself, or anywhere near capable of the amazing feats he'd witnessed, Pearl Adams had knowledge. And knowledge was power. The surikomi egg had done half the job and Tomiko's success at Ryugenzawa had built on that foundation. Kumon Ryu would be his walking weapon: a martial artist to fight martial artists.   
  
Off the record Kumon had orders, told to him when Kenji and Yosho weren't around, not to endanger the Tendos. On the record, Adams had argued to his comrades that by using this method, instead of a bomb, there'd be no outstanding connection to the Society, as per his orders. It would look like the work of a rogue martial artist. The local cops and authorities would follow the commands from higher up and clean up any resulting messes. He'd been assured that some elements and levels of the Japanese government were already under the influence of the Society, should it become necessary to use them. And following this route, he could take care of his two targets and make it look like a martial arts duel gone out of control.  
  
Still, he suspected Kenji and Yosho were silently questioning his motives. Kenji, who had been included in the group primarily to make the bomb that would get the job done, was at first annoyed that he wouldn't get the chance to use what he'd "put his soul into making." Then, after being reminded that he got paid either way, he had seemed relatively content to let his 'baby' be the backup operation. Yosho, however, was another story. He was a specialist in surveillance and intelligence gathering, and Adams was starting to suspect that he was reporting on them behind his back.   
  
The van slowed and parked at a mall at the edge of the district.  
  
"Now..." Yosho said, before opening the back doors. "It's time."  
  
"Adams-sama?"  
  
"Go on, Ryu." Adams had been the one the boy first saw when he woke up. The effects had been everything the Society had told him.   
  
"I won't fail you." Kumon Ryu cracked his knuckles. "Those two guys... Saotome Ranma and Hibiki Ryouga... are as good as dead!"  
  
***  
  
China.  
  
Herb stood, a cool breeze caressing his face, overlooking the Seventh Gate. A hundred feet below, rank after rank of Musk marched, carrying their supplies on their backs. They were all strong warriors, and trained to move lightly and with great speed across long distances. Miles behind them, they had separated from the bulk of Herb's Army, and begun the trek up the Seventh Stair that led to the Gate, and finally, around the mountain summit and into the Amazon heartland.   
  
At his feet, a pebble broke loose, and tumbled down the rocky precipice. From where he stood, the Seventh Gate beckoned - a slow, but steady descent, treacherous most of the year due to landslides and ice. From afar, between howling winds and mist covered mountain peaks, it called to him. This was the season of his victory. Of his ultimate triumph! Already, it had brought him so much, and found the Dragon Prince in good fortune.   
  
Soon.  
  
He felt a laugh bubble up at the sheer, almost giddy, joy of it all. This was where he was *now.* Just months before, he'd only dreamed of this moment, and now it was real. Real! What other glories did the future hold? He already had more than he had imagined, just half a year ago. Clenching his fist, he deeply inhaled the mountain air. Soon, he would march through green pastures. Soon, the bodies of Khu Lon and Oui Ru would each decorate a pike, high above the ruins of the Joketsuzoku village. Where, then, would he be? What, then, would he do?  
  
"Pantyhose."  
  
Herb's half brother didn't answer immediately, but made up for the disrespect with his usual well-chosen words. "My liege?"  
  
Herb looked over his shoulder at Pantyhose Taro, his bastard younger half brother born of tainted Amazon blood and the most noble of Musk ancestry. Taro was a fine warrior, even in comparison to fellow Musk, but his Jyusenkyou curse, his foolish name, his (tentative) chance of inheriting the Dragon Throne, and the damned coincidences of his birth would forever stigmatize him in Herb's eyes. Taro was not his equal, and never would be. Still, he had his talents, and his uses.  
  
"Go, as planned, and scout out the lands ahead before our arrival." Herb turned back to the view. "Use what resources and male spies among the Amazons that you still have available. This will be our final campaign."  
  
Taro's eyes sparkled, though Herb didn't see it.   
  
"Should I attempt to encourage the southern pockets of Chinese Muslims to rise up, or leave them be for the moment?"  
  
"They would only be crushed at this point." Herb shook his head. "It is tempting... but let things be that are, at least for the immediate future, out of our reach. Just do as planned, and rendezvous with us in three days. Oh, and... one more thing, 'little brother.' I want you to find an Amazon male who goes by the name Mu Tzu. His safety seems to be a concern of my woman's, and so it has become my concern as well."  
  
"Feh." Taro reached down to his waist and unscrewed a small canteen looped to a strap over his shoulder. "Consider it done. ... My liege."  
  
The younger brother jumped, then, into the air. With an almost inaudible splash, Taro transformed. His body expanded several fold, horns erupted from his skull, wings from his back, hooves where feet had once been... and then something new: tentacles. From the base of his spine they writhed and curled. With a roar that shook the ground, Taro flew overhead, and to the east. Below Herb's lookout, more than a few Musk paused in their march to cheer him.   
  
Watching his agent fly off, Herb reached to his side and pulled out the Kinjakan staff from where he'd jabbed it, several inches, into the rocky ground. It was in perfect condition, of course. Being damn near invulnerable to damage, it would take a great deal to break the legendary Jusendo staff. As he held it Herb found the feel of it in his hands rather enjoyable. It was one of the lost treasures of the Musk, but now it was back where it belonged: in the hands of the Dragon Lord whose ancestor had commissioned its creation. It's brother-staff, the Gekkaja, however, was still lost to them.   
  
A true pity.  
  
Herb had no doubt that the Phoenix still held the Gekkaja prisoner in some hidden storehouse beneath Phoenix Mountain. It was then only a matter of time before, having finished subduing the unruly Amazons, the Musk returned to that place and finish off their perverted cousins and creations, the Phoenix. And reclaim... what was theirs. Holding the Kinjakan eye level, Herb concentrated, and the staff responded to him. It knew its master well, for while anyone with knowledge of Ki could use the Kinjakan, only one from the bloodline of Ma'at could master it, and utilize it to its full potential.  
  
Only a few quiet minutes later, Herb heard the approaching footsteps his well-honed Ki senses had long before warned him of. He let the two get close before pivoting slightly and giving some proper greeting. His breath caught at the sight of her, of Kuonji Ukyou, standing before him. She was wearing Musk light armor (with her mega-spatula tied to the back), but her long blowing chestnut hair, her eyes, her face... all made it impossible to not see her as female. He smiled inwardly. To him, Ukyou looked beautiful no matter what she wore.   
  
Herb inclined his head to her and mentally switched languages to Japanese. "Ukyou. Would you... ah... care to join me?"  
  
She smiled, and it filled him with warmth. "If I fall off that edge, you'd better catch me."  
  
"I would be remiss if I did not." Herb took a step to the side and let her join him, looking out over the edge of the cliff. She would be his wife, if he had any say in the matter, and a decidedly un-Musk part of him was happier to have her with him here and now than all the victories in war thus acquired.   
  
And, of course, Mint stood behind the two, his arms crossed, and a serious expression on his young face. Herb paid him only a passing glance, and silent testimony to a job well done as Ukyou's bodyguard. Mint was a loyal Musk, good hearted, and well skilled. He had taken to the task of guarding the would-be bride of the Dragon Prince with distinction and devotion, and Ukyou seemed to have grown comfortable with his presence. So, Herb let him stay close as they watched the mountains and the pass.  
  
A little shyly, Herb let his slightly shaking hand settle on Ukyou's waist, and when she didn't respond negatively, he held her closer to him. "I'm... glad you accompanied me... I value you more than I think I've ever made clear, Ukyou."  
  
Surprised, she turned to face him.  
  
"After this is over," he said, and looked away again, back to the seas of rock and trees. "I will let Mint escort you home, to Japan, if you so desire. I will not hold you against your will, though I am loathe to let you go."  
  
"You have an odd way of being romantic, sugar," she replied, playfully.  
  
"Oh?" he asked.  
  
"But I'm not going to leave just yet." Ukyou continued. "Someone has to look out for you."  
  
He smirked. "My hero."  
  
They stood in silence for a few more moments, before Ukyou spoke up. "Herb?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I came here to ask something of you."  
  
'Some ulterior motive?' he wondered. "What is it?"  
  
"Well..." She paused, as if unsure whether to continue.  
  
"Speak your mind, woman." Herb pressed her.  
  
"I know you have no qualms about killing, Herb. I know one of the reasons you're here is to kill... those who have wronged your family. I'm not going to tell you that what you're doing is wrong. But..." Her voice became bolder. "But I want you to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Even if they are Amazons, who you make no secret of your hatred for, I don't want innocent people to get caught up in this."  
  
Herb wrinkled his nose, as if smelling something rotten. "This is war. The innocent and the guilty alike bleed in war."  
  
"Herb..." Ukyou pursed her lips, and grabbed him by his collar. "I don't think you're a bad person, but if you want there to be something, anything, between us, you'll promise me..."  
  
"If it is so important," Herb interrupted, and gently pried her fingers from his tunic. "Then I'll see it done."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Though some of the men will be disappointed, the bloodshed will be kept to a... minimum." He frowned a little. "I promise."  
  
"Good." She seemed satisfied with that, and relaxed. Herb just sighed.  
  
Women were strange creatures, indeed.  
  
Far below, the Musk marched on.  
  
***   
  
Ryugenzawa was gone.  
  
Shinnosuke still couldn't quite believe it. Everything he'd ever known, everything, was gone. Burned to ashes. So long as he lived, never would he forget the smoldering ruin that had once been their guardianship and their home. Looking out the window, to the speeding countryside around the train, he wondered something.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
His grandfather had a weary look to him. "We're going to visit an old family friend."  
  
"Oh."   
  
Shinnosuke mentally filed that little factoid away (where it promptly was forgotten two minutes later). Coughing softly, he covered his mouth, and looked around at the other people in their part of the train. None seemed to pay him much heed, but the forgetful one had a strange feeling that they were being watched. Gulping, he tasted something off, and looked down at his hand.   
  
Blood?  
  
Wiping his lower lip with his wrist. Shinnosuke shrugged. He'd probably just bitten his lip or something. Looking to his only surviving family, he held out his hand. "Grandfather. Tissue?"  
  
The older man saw the blood, and for an instant, Shinnosuke saw panic in his eyes. Then the old guardian reached into a pocket and handed over a rumpled white tissue. Shinnosuke cleaned off his hand and wrist, while running his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to find the bite. After a few seconds, however, he found nothing, and gave up. It wasn't that big a deal anyway.  
  
"How are you feeling, Shinnosuke?"  
  
"I've got a bit of a headache." The boy leaned forward and to the side a little, resting his shoulder against the windowpane. Yawning, he blinked his eyes a few times. "I guess I'm just a bit worn out."  
  
"We're almost there," his grandfather assured him. "You can sleep when we get to their house."  
  
"... Who are we going to see again?"  
  
The old man sighed, and explained it for the tenth or eleventh time. It was just a half hour later when, after leaving the train station, the two men reached their goal. Approaching the main gate to the compound, Shinnosuke's grandfather gave their names and waited for a ranch hand to let them in.   
  
"Have I ... ever been here before?"  
  
Shinnosuke's grandfather closed his eyes and nodded sadly. His heir's forgetfulness was not just a serious hurtle to be overcome in their line of work, but a major annoyance as well. Any girl poor Shin-chan managed to hook up with would need patience to rival the Buddha. It was one of the reasons he had canceled his old agreement with Benjiro. He only hoped that time had healed the remaining animosity between the former friends, because without help, Shinnosuke didn't have much longer to live.   
  
Only a minute later, a tall man in overalls opened the gate, and led the two men to the main house. It wasn't particularly large; little more than a farm house, and dwarfed by the large pens behind and to its right side. Large animals roamed in those pens, and a fair distance away some of their free-range cousins milled about. Entering the comfy house, liberally decorated in pig motifs, Shinnosuke and his grandfather came at last to an enervated old man seated before a table in the middle of what was likely the living room. With a bow, the two also sat down.  
  
"Rinji." Their elderly host said, simply.  
  
Shinnosuke's grandfather bowed his head. "Benjiro."  
  
"... Do I know you?" Shinnosuke asked, looking closely at the other old man.  
  
Benjiro smiled wryly. "You may, Shin-kun. But I'm not surprised you forgot. I was younger, then. Healthier. Gentlemen. My grand-daughter will be in with tea in a moment."  
  
"We were both younger then." Rinji nodded, slowly. "Benjiro, you must know this isn't just a social call."  
  
"I didn't expect to see you again after breaking off the engagement."  
  
"Ryugenzawa..."  
  
"I heard." Benjiro cut his one-time friend off. "On the news. A forest fire... I suppose that is what it would take to bring you two out of that cursed forest for even a day or two."  
  
"Ryugenzawa is not a cursed forest!" Rinji growled, and Shinnosuke suspected it wasn't the first time he'd said those words in that tone.   
  
"'Was not a cursed forest,' you mean." Benjiro smirked, the wrinkles on his forehead and face scrunching up slightly. "Why did you come, Rinji? No where else to go?"  
  
After a tense moment, Shinnosuke's grandfather relented, voice exhausted. "No."  
  
  
  
In the distance, an animal grunted, and a wind chime sounded in the breeze. Soft footsteps interrupted the moment, and a young lady in work-pants and a hastily thrown on shirt walked in, holding a tray. Seeing her, Shinnosuke felt a moment of recognition come and go in a heartbeat. She was cute; expressive hazel eyes and long deep-brown hair with brilliant pink highlights running down the side. Was it that, or something else, that made him feel as if all this was deja vu?   
  
"Hello," she said, voice kind but with a certain determination. "Tea, anyone?"  
  
"Please." Rinji inclined his head, and nudged Shinnosuke in the side.   
  
"Oh." The young man looked at the girl. "Umm... yes. Please."  
  
Benjiro leaned back a little from where he sat. "I wonder, Shin-kun, do you remember my granddaughter: Akari?"  
  
"Akari?" Shinnosuke cocked his head to the side.  
  
"Shin?" Akari sat down after serving the two guests. "Shinnosuke?"  
  
"That's me." The boy seemed to shift nervously under her gaze. "Have we met?"  
  
"When we were younger." Akari clarified. "You don't remember me at all?"  
  
"Sorry... no..."  
  
She looked away. "...oh...."  
  
Rinji coughed, making his presence known, and reminding their host that there was business to discuss between them. "There is more to this than you know, Benjiro. Many years ago, not soon after we... parted ways, actually... Shinnosuke here was involved in an accident while saving a young girl. He was injured quite severely."  
  
"I was?" Shinnosuke asked, not liking how clueless he sounded in front of Akari.  
  
"Yes. It is time you know how serious this situation is for you, my boy." Rinji frowned deeply. "On that day, I thought you were going to die. Not only had you been poisoned, but also your mongoose-horn whistle was gone. Without it, there was no chance of subduing the Orochi and healing you using the Moss of Life. However, the Water of Life could heal you temporarily, so I didn't believe the problem was life threatening so long as you remained within Ryugenzawa."  
  
"Now, with the sacred forest gone..." The old man placed his palms on the table and bowed deeply. "I need your help, Benjiro! For old time's sake! Help me! Help me find the Tendo Dojo!"  
  
Akari's eyebrows perked up. "Did you say, 'Tendo Dojo?'"  
  
"Yes." Rinji nodded, once. "The girl he saved ended up carrying Shinnosuke home after he stepped on one of the monster traps. I got her name before she left, and it was Tendo Akane, of the Tendo Dojo. She was gone before I learned any more, but I am convinced, now, that Shinnosuke must have given her the whistle. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the Dojo is..."  
  
"What about the Water of Life?" Benjiro asked.  
  
Rinji wiped away a tear. "I returned after the fire had been put out, Benjiro. Nothing was left. All the animals were dead. And... and..."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And the Water of Life is gone. Drained!" Rinji balled his hands into fists. "Which means the Yamata-no-Orochi has awoken. He will have to be defeated or subdued before yielding the Moss of Life that can save Shinnosuke."  
  
Throughout this, Rinji noticed, the boy in question was eerily silent. It wasn't every day one learned they were dying. Rinji had purposefully not said just how long his grandson had left before death overcame him, instead trusting in the tone of his voice and the seriousness of the situation to make it clear: not long. Luckily, the Unryu Ranch was on the way to Tokyo, and if worse came to worse, and Shinnosuke was not long for this mortal coil, he would be able to spend that time comfortable and happy.   
  
Benjiro sighed, knowingly. "These are difficult times. I will do whatever I can to help, Rinji."  
  
"Ano..." Akari spoke up. "Grandfather... I know where the Tendo Dojo is."  
  
"You do?" Rinji focused his eyes on her, tears of happiness in them. "Where is it?"  
  
"Nerima Ward. I can take you there, if you like."  
  
"Ah, yes!" Benjiro clapped his fist in his palm, remembering. "Akari was in Tokyo just a little while ago. Looking for a husband!"  
  
"Grandfather!" Akari blushed, embarrassed.  
  
"You can head out first thing tomorrow morning. I think young Shin-kun here is at least entitled to one good meal and a good night's rest after everything you've both been through." Akari's grandfather declared. "Akari, please show Shin-kun to the guest room. Rinji and I still have things to discuss."  
  
"Of course." Akari stood up, and Shinnosuke did likewise after a few seconds. "This way."  
  
Following her in relative silence up the stairs, he finally said something.  
  
"What's your name again?"  
  
She just smiled. "Unryu Akari."  
  
"That's a nice name." Shinnosuke smiled back. "Akari..."  
  
***  
  
Lychee savored the sensation of flight, partaking deeply of air so pure; it was normally reserved for the birds alone. The Lucky Gods Airship had taken to the sky once more, after spending the better part of a day at ground level, and Lychee had watched as regiment after regiment of Musk troops had loaded into its cavernous bays. She had watched, as supplies of rice and pickles were prepared for the journey ahead.   
  
As the thought of rice and pickles, she felt a moment of distaste, but it came and went. Those two foodstuffs had played a greater role in her diet than she deserved, though luckily the ship also maintained a store of more tasteful ingredients for special occasions. She had a feeling that those would not last long with several hundred ravenous Musk aboard, but such was the importance of their place in Prince Herb's plan that the price would have to be paid. More importantly, the Society and her Father wished the Amazons crushed and under their control.   
  
Herb was a linchpin in that plan, though he himself was oblivious to it. Lychee only wished she could see her beloved father soon, especially to see how he looked now that he'd taken Saffron's power into himself and become more-than-man. Ironically, during the assault on Phoenix Mountain, Herb had used the Airship as a distraction, and at the same time, Bishop and the Society had used *him* as the distraction they needed to nab the young Phoenix God. Soon enough, even the arrogant Prince of the Musk would be put in his place.  
  
Such was the plan of her father, Bishop Verikov.  
  
Her adopted father, anyway. Lychee's real family had died when she was barely a child. The only reminder she had of them was the family scroll that had been passed down for generations, and that had proven the greatest inheritance she could have asked for. The scroll was the second half of a similar one in the possession of the Seven Lucky Gods martial arts clan. It had allowed her first entrance into Prince Kirin's court, and later, his heart.   
  
Lychee had little doubt that her father had adopted the scroll as much as the girl. He was far too crafty and knowledgeable in such matters to leave that in doubt. But that realization had never really bothered her; she was more than willing to be a part of his plans and the destiny of the human race. Over time, she had grown to love her father, and he her. If she was also useful to him as an agent in his plans, then all the better.  
  
They were both practical people.  
  
Not at all like her husband, the Prince: Kirin. Kirin was an eccentric, and a romantic, which was a nice change of pace, really. He was just... a little soft. He lacked the ruthlessness of even many of his servants, like Bishamonten, Monlon and Ebiten. It took more than a little pulling and prodding on her part to get him to give the Alliance with the Musk his blessing. 'A soft touch,' she had called it, when her father had asked how her progress was with the Prince.   
  
The only alternative, of course, was to use a surikomi egg. When the plan had begun, and she had gained Kirin's audience and confidence to the point where she could hit him with it without arousing suspicion (roughly when they began sharing bedchambers), her father had offered her one egg out of the few they had back then to get the job done. However, she had declined. Its use would destroy him and make him into a slave, and though his stubbornness got on her nerves more than once, she did not want a slave for a husband. And she did not want the proud and noble Prince Kirin to befall such a fate. She had told her father as much, and though he was annoyed, he relented and let her do as she thought was right.   
  
Of course, that was before Bishop's plans entered a critical phase, and before surikomi eggs were in any abundance. All they had available at that time were old surikomi eggs that the Society had gotten their hands on during the last war, and that Saffron the Terrible had left behind in the places of his power. Now, with the Phoenix God a part of her father, surikomi eggs were no longer scarce. Even though the Society was busy using them to gain influence around the world as part of the plan, her father seemed more insistent that she consider it an option when dealing with Kirin.   
  
"Sorry, father..." She whispered the apology. Even if he asked, she wouldn't do it. Despite his faults and idiosyncrasies, Kirin had grown on her, and... and she loved him. Loved him enough to protect him. No: her husband and Prince could be manipulated just as all husbands were, and in so doing, Kirin would one day join her father of his own free will. It was only a matter of time.  
  
Which made her wonder about Kuonji Ukyou.  
  
The Japanese girl, when last they had talked, still wanted to go home, though Lychee had detected more than a little fondness for where she already was. Could it be: was she falling for that Musk Prince? True, Herb was handsome and strong, but he was hardly what Lychee would consider kind and loveable, or even that likeable. Dismissive of women in general, overbearing and arrogant, Herb just didn't seem like her type.   
  
This complicated things. Lychee had suggested to her father that Ukyou could be used against Herb. He had allowed her to proceed with that possible course of action, while at the same time giving those two barbarians Sumac and Taro free reign to plan against the Musk Prince so long as it did not seriously impair the Campaign against the Amazons. Sumac, Lychee knew, was as ruthless and ambitious as her father. She wasn't sure how wise it was trusting him to act on his own... and Taro... Pantyhose Taro was a wild card. His only real allegiance seemed to be with himself.   
  
Still, if everything went well, the Amazons would be smashed, and the entire area would be restructured. Sumac would oversee all the lands of the Amazon and Phoenix, Taro would get whatever he wanted (whatever that was), and Herb would either be broken to their cause or made too impotent to oppose it. Kirin and the Seven Lucky Gods clan would then support the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society as it assumed control over the area, with all its ancient wealth in martial arts, magic, artifacts and knowledge. With that, and the elimination or assimilation of all the powerful martial artists of the world, the Society would have a free hand to infiltrate and control all the major governments on the planet. Her father, now an immortal being, would then rule over all the earth, secretly at first, and then with greater boldness and force.   
  
Then, finally, the world would know peace...  
  
"Lady Lychee?"  
  
"Hmm?" She turned a little, just enough to see a young man approach the railing at the edge of the Airship. His oak-brown hair, and prominent bandanna, immediately identified him as Prince Toma, the 'other' Prince on board the ship. He wasn't in his normal attire, however, as instead of wearing the light blue bandanna she had seen on him before, his present one was all black. He hadn't been his usual talkative self the last few days, and Lychee had little doubt that he was still mourning the death of his friend and bodyguard, Wonton.   
  
"Prince Toma." She gave him a curt bow. "What brings you out here?"  
  
His eyes were half lidded as he looked out into the open sky. Below, the hills were slowly turning to mountains, and above, a flocks of birds seemed to hover, keeping pace with the slowly moving airship. Seeing them, the young Prince took a step back, and in the time it took to bat an eye, draw his sword. Without a word, he motioned upwards with it, and a column of fire lanced out, engulfing the flock.   
  
Which flew out of the flames unharmed.  
  
"Animals never fall for my illusions." He narrowed his eyes. "No matter."  
  
In that instant, he was gone. Lychee looked up, and saw him reappear in midair, among the birds. Before the animals could properly panic and scatter, Toma's sword flashed, and the lot of them, all twelve, disappeared in little explosions of feathers and blood. The next second, Toma disappeared once more. Appearing next to her in a flash, she saw him just finish sheathing his sword.  
  
"Why...?" She started to ask.   
  
"They could have been spies for the Phoenix. Better not to take the risk." He looked out over the railing again, as if nothing had happened. Little feathers and bits of feathers slowly rained down, drifting on invisible air currents like snow. Lychee caught one in her palm that seemed to flutter more erratically than the rest, and saw that it had been cut cleanly down the center.   
  
Toma closed his eyes and sighed. "Did you know... that this is only the second time I've been to the land of my ancestors?"  
  
The first had been when he'd come for Prince Herb's summons, weeks ago, before the plan for war had been decided on. Lychee, however, was unsure what to say to such a question. Seeing his shadowed eyes on her, she suddenly felt nervous. Toma was a Lord of Illusions, and despite his youth, he was a formidable fighter, as she had just witnessed.   
  
"What do you think of it?" She asked, finally.  
  
"This place..." Toma's grip on the railing tightened. "A part of me can feel its allure, its ancient history. I share some of my blood with Herb, and though it does not flow as strongly, it is still part of me. I knew of my bloodline, but never really understood it until I came here. And even then... not until I drew my sword with intent to kill."  
  
Lychee blinked, confused. Why had he paused in his words?   
  
After twenty or so seconds, Tome continued. "I was so... shocked at first. So frightened. Now... now my blood revels in it, and burns with a corrupting fire I had never imagined existed. Within me is a Serpent, dark and evil: a ghost haunting the descendants of Ma'at with promises of power and death. I can see, now, why the Musk Lords ever restrained themselves in the affairs of men."  
  
Toma's left hand clenched into a fist. "If this siren song beats so strongly in my heart... Herb must feel it pulse with his every thought and impulse! Yet... yet... I do not feel he is falling towards the Abyss. How does he control it so easily, while I struggle so? I am unsure whether to admire him, or fear him."  
  
"Perhaps," Lychee suggested. "A little of both?"  
  
"Perhaps." Toma said, voice distant. "I fight here because I gave Herb my word, and my word is my bond. I fight because I want to distinguish myself... made a name for myself. And, maybe, bring Musk and Togenkyou closer together in friendship. I never asked... I never asked why Wonton fought. He simply did, I suppose. I just never... thought to ask."  
  
"Now he's dead." Toma wiped his nose, and stood up straight. No tears, though, which surprised Lychee. Prince Toma had been in isolation for two days after the assault on Phoenix Mountain, only meeting with his surviving bodyguard, Toristan, and Prince Herb, before he set out on his campaign. Before that, on the deck of this very airship, Toma had openly wept over the body of his fallen friend, seemingly ignorant of the arrow shaft imbedded in his arm and refusing to leave Wonton's side.   
  
"He's dead." Toma repeated, his face stony. "And so are at least a hundred and seven other Togenkyou warriors, from horizon to horizon. I thought the view from here might ease my mind, but it seems to have had the opposite effect."  
  
Lychee didn't know what to say, except, "I'm sorry."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly. "Don't be. You have nothing to feel sorry for. ... Good night, Lady Lychee."  
  
Watching the young man's back as he walked away, Lychee turned again to the view over the railing, seeing more than just the mountains and the sky. "Oh, father..."  
  
***  
  
"Ok. Let's try this again..."  
  
Ranma shook his head at Ryouga's weary tone of voice. "Ok. On three. One... two..."  
  
The pigtailed martial artist lifted the nozzle of the garden hose and splashed his rival. "Three!"   
  
Instantly, Ryouga disappeared and shrunk down amid the spray of cold water, into the body of a little black piglet. Looking wearily down at him, Ranma got the next thermos of hot water ready, and unscrewed the cap. Though it didn't look like it, he and Ryouga were training. Or, more precisely, Ryouga was training, and he was helping.  
  
It was the system they'd developed.   
  
They had decided to train together when it came to normal sparring, without the special techniques. Special techniques and the like were independently worked on, for the most part, but they had agreed to help each other with any special training they might need. It was a little boring, mostly because Ranma wasn't doing anything personally productive, but he knew Ryouga would return the favor if asked.  
  
They were still rivals, but they weren't enemies.   
  
It was an interesting arrangement, and one Ranma was actually rather enjoying. Maybe they were even friends, now. Ryouga had never called Ranma a 'friend' but, really, did you need to call someone a friend for them to be one? It occurred to him that if Ryouga got lost again Nabiki wouldn't be the only person to miss him. He would too.  
  
"Hey, Pig, how ya doin?"  
  
The piglet growled and squealed.   
  
'Probably a curse.' Ranma figured; some porcine equivalent of cross-dresser. Ranma smirked. "Ok. Here comes the hot water. Get ready."  
  
Upending the thermos, Ryouga-pig was showered by the steaming water. In half a second, he was back in his human form, wearing only his boxers. Sitting cross-legged, he sighed. "It's getting easier. Two or three more times, and I'll have it down."  
  
"Cool." Ranma reached for the hose. "How's it feel?"  
  
"Weird." Ryouga nodded sagely. "The hard part was getting the clothes to transform with me in the first place. After that, getting them to reappear was relatively easy. You shouldn't have too much of a problem getting it down."  
  
Ranma 'hmfed.' "If Mousse can do it, I should I hope I could, too. On three?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Counting to the required number, Ranma hosed Ryouga down once again, and he shrunk into his pig form, taking the boxers with him. That, Mousse had told them before he left, was the trick to changing forms with clothes on. For the Chinese Amazon it had been a relatively easy technique to pick up, because of his background in Hidden Weapons. It was for that same reason that both had decided to let Ryouga have a try at it first. Aside from having a more embarrassing curse, which, when triggered, usually meant he lost his clothes, Ryouga also had more experience with hidden weapons. Though it was a different variety than that which Mousse had mastered.   
  
Ryouga had already made good progress. They'd been at it for the last hour and a half, and already he could transform without losing his boxer shorts. This, apparently, was enough for the lost boy. His regular clothes were already Ki treated, using the Tekimen Kongou Gishu technique, and the lost boy suspected that the Instant Diamond Hand would make them much more difficult to transform with. When Ranma asked why, he had reminded him that the clothes react to impacts, especially piercing ones, using infused Ki to stiffen in response. He was afraid they'd react negatively with what they were trying with regular clothes, and wasn't willing to risk it.  
  
It was still a handy ability to have, though Ranma knew Ryouga was more interested in it than he was. Ranma had very rarely found himself for want of clothes due to his curse. Still, once or twice Ranma had wished he'd be able to quickly move out of a girl-disguise clothes and into something more fitting his real body, if only to avoid embarrassment. But there was little need to master it, at least not at this point in time.   
  
Then, just as he was about finished unscrewing another hot water thermos, his martial artist's warning sense went off. 'Danger!'  
  
"Ranma..." Akane called, walking towards where they were practicing. "Would you like some tea and cherry-blossom mochi?"  
  
Leaping up and away, his head was intercepted by one of the dozen or so unused concrete blocks by the side of the house. Falling back to earth, Ranma crossed his arms and frowned, landing on both feet. Touching the bump on his head, he gave Akane a bitter look. Walking up to her, he picked up one of the mochi balls from the tray.   
  
It was a cruel, deformed creature.   
  
"This is cherry-blossom mochi?" He looked at it dejectedly, and Akane nodded happily. "It looks more like a mashed potato."  
  
Ryouga-pig winced, but walked over to the two as they sat down. 'Real smooth, dumbass. Why is he always making fun of Akane's cooking?'  
  
Sniffing it, Ranma rubbed the second bump on his poor abused skull. "Are you sure this is cherry-blossom mochi? This one smells like a month old burrito."  
  
A second later, Ranma was nursing yet another bump on the head.  
  
"Of course it's cherry-blossom mochi!" Akane shook her fist angrily. "I made it myself!"  
  
"That much is obvious..." Ranma whispered.   
  
"Just eat one, Ranma!" Akane yelled, a hint of desperation in her voice.   
  
Ranma looked down at the miserable little foodstuff, and seemed about to take a little nibble, when...  
  
"What have we here?" Kuno exploded onto the scene, and landed behind them with a flourish and a flick of his wavy hair. "Ah, cherry-blossom mochi sculpted by the lovely hands of Tendo Akane! Such a treat alone could divert me from my courtship of the pigtailed girl, whose mother I have heard, now resides within these humble walls!"  
  
"Oh, great..." Ranma groaned.  
  
Ryouga-pig snorted in disapproval. 'Nabiki...'  
  
Tears of happiness streaming down his cheeks, Kuno lunged for the tray of mochi. "Such a treat is fit only for..."  
  
Abruptly, the kendoist's throat seized up, and he fell forward limply landing on all fours. Slamming his head with the palm of his hand, in obvious pain, Kuno writhed for all of fifteen seconds before standing back up, fist clenched... and a big black X on his face.   
  
"Tendo Akane..." He proclaimed, proudly. "I would endure any agony for you!!"  
  
"What the...?" Ranma narrowed his eyes, looking more closely at the mark on Kuno's face. In the next second, Kuno jumped towards his one-of-two true loves and was promptly punted over the wall. Calming down slightly, Akane took a deep breath and sat down again. Noticing Ranma's glare, she relented.  
  
"Alright. I'll tell you everything." Akane quickly composed her thoughts, and proceeded to tell Ranma and Ryouga about how she had ran into the old man who had sold her the things, explaining that they would mark incompatible people with an X and compatible people with cherry blossom outlines. At the end of it all, Ranma waved his hand dismissingly.  
  
"What a waste of money."  
  
"I just wanted to see if, you know..." Akane's thumbs tapped each other nervously. "I mean: we're engaged because of our parents. I was just curious about whether... if..."  
  
"Yeah, well, I ain't interested!" Ranma barked back, defensive.   
  
Akane growled. "Why not?"  
  
"Because..." Ranma looked down at the malformed mochi still in his right hand. "Because I'm scared. Not because I believe this stupid stuff works... but because..."  
  
"Because?" Akane pressured.  
  
"Because its gross!"  
  
Bump number four.  
  
"Fine!" Akane hissed, really angry now. She spied Ryouga-pig sitting down on his haunches, nearby. "You don't think my cooking is bad, do you, Ryouga?"  
  
The pig shook his head.  
  
"Well, Ryouga ain't never eaten any, so he doesn't know how dangerous..." Ranma winced, barely avoiding getting blow number five to the noggin.  
  
'I know it can't be Ryouga. And if Ryouga eats one, Ranma will have to.' Akane thought as she handed him one of the mochi balls, and the pig ate it in one bite. For a split second, the piglet's body froze up, his eyes wide. Then, tears welling up, the pig formerly known as P-chan let out a loud squeal, and ran around in erratic circles before hitting a wall and collapsing completely.   
  
"I told you." Ranma shook his head. "Man, I feel sorry for the guy, now. He had no idea what he was getting into."  
  
Akane just scowled. "Shut up, Ranma! At least he was man enough to eat one! What would your mother think?"  
  
"She'd think: 'Don't poison my only son!' That's what she'd think!"  
  
"Why you...!"  
  
"Ugh..." Ryouga's voice interrupted the two, and they saw that the lost boy had recovered enough to splash himself with the thermos Ranma had last unscrewed. "Such exquisite agony..."  
  
"Ryouga?" Akane watched him closely. He was still looking down at the ground and holding his face in one hand. "Was it that bad?"  
  
"Errg graaa..." He slowly stood up, shaking his head. "K... keep practicing, Akane-san... There was just... a little... too much sea salt..."   
  
...  
  
"Guys?" Ryouga looked at the two teens. Akane and Ranma were just staring at him. "What? Oh! I've probably got an X, right?"  
  
"N... no..." Ranma shook his head. "Cherry blossom petals..."  
  
"What?" Ryouga frowned. "Don't play games with me, Saotome..."  
  
"It's true!" Akane gasped. "I don't believe it! You're the man I'm destined to be with?!"  
  
***  
  
Furinkan High School.  
  
"I hate summer classes!"  
  
"I know, Kurumi-chan... but we have to go to school." Natsume explained, patiently, as they walked out of the building. "We have to make up for lost time, or we'll never be worthy of inheriting the Tendo Dojo."  
  
Kurumi's shoulders slumped. "I know..."  
  
"Hey! You! Are you two Natsume and Kurumi Tendo?"  
  
The two sisters looked up, and saw someone standing in the large tree near the school gate. Jumping down, they saw he was a tall boy, taller than Ranma and Ryouga and probably Kuno, too. He looked at least Natsume's age, with a white headband, dark sleeveless shirt, gloves and matching military pants and belt holding numerous pouches. He also had what seemed to be a collar around his neck. Laced up black boots took measured steps toward them, and both girls began to feel his battle aura flare up around them.   
  
"Who wants to know?" Natsume asked, summoning her courage, and her own formidable fighting spirit to her defense.   
  
"Yeah?!" Kurumi piped in, taking up a fighting stance and reaching for her ribbon/bow.  
  
"Natsume and Kurumi Tendo... of the Tendo Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu..." The man smiled. "You two aren't real Tendos, so there shouldn't be a problem using you as bait."  
  
"Not 'real' Tendos? What are you talking about?!" Natsume drew her rug beater, spinning it once before pointing at him. Her body began to glow dangerously, ice blue energy coalescing around her. "Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Kumon Ryu." He stopped walking, and crossed his arms in front of him. "Remember it!!"  
  
"He's going to attack!" Natsume called to her sister. "Kurumi! Quick! Musabetsu Kakutou Hiryu Carimbou!!"  
  
With lightning quick reflexes and teamwork that could only come from years of training together, Natsume and Kurumi unleashed their final attack. Since the last fight they'd had with Ranma and Akane (only later discovering that the girl was, in fact, Ranma), the two sisters had trained to improve their attack - to make it stronger, more cohesive, faster... The version they unleashed now wasn't at full power, but it was comparable to the old 'full power' version they had used against Ranma in the fight for the Dojo.   
  
Their opponent just laughed as the attack smashed into his body, sending him flying back into the concrete wall encircling the school. The resulting crash blew away the embankment for over twenty feet, throwing dust and bits of stone everywhere. A moment later, the tree nearby snapped from the wind pressure and the strength of the attack at its periphery. It fell to the ground in a heap.   
  
"We got him!" Kurumi jumped, pumping her fist in the air. "We showed him!"  
  
"Indeed." Natsume then looked more closely at the rubble, where a figure was still on his feet. Taking a few steps forward, and out of the cloud of dust, Kumon Ryu snickered softly.   
  
"A few days ago..." he said, loud enough for the girls to hear. "That would've broken one of my ribs. Kudos. You've earned this..." Crossing his arms again, Ryu's Ki built up dramatically, his battle aura blazing like a living wildfire. "Kijin Raishu Dan!!"  
  
Mere seconds later, Kumon Ryu walked away with the two girls over his shoulder... and Furinkan High School burning at his back.   
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Thus ends chapter 30! Holy smoke! Hard to believe I've written all this and gotten this far. I write the very first version of "Learning Curve" as a mere one-shot, only fifty pages long. The first half of the first half was almost all Ranma-Ryouga, but I think I've done a good job of diversifying and giving other characters a chance to show their stuff. It's been an ordeal sometimes, and a real joy almost all the time, all tempered by amazement. Thirty! Damn.   
  
What's up for the next fifteen chapters? Lemme see: In Japan, we've got those damn mochi screwing with the nice comfortable relationships, Shinnosuke dying without the Water of Life, not to mention the menace of a ruthless, pumped-up new Kumon Ryu doing the will of the Jyusenkyou Preservation Society hit men. Then there's the rising infiltration of that group into governments across the world... Plus more... In China, the war continues, and reached the boiling point as Herb and his forces drive towards the Joketsuzoku village itself. Not to mention the manipulations of Sumac and Soap, and their respective power plays! Then there's Shampoo and Mousse's less-than-healthy situation, and wildcards like the Jyusenkyou Guide, Rouge, and Taro...   
  
This story is far from over! I better get writing... 


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